


Harry Potter and the Heir of Slytherin

by 2MusicLover2



Series: ...And They Were Friends [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 2, Chamber of Secrets, Hogwarts Second Year, Malfoy Manor, Rewrite, Second year, rewritten chamber of secrets, theyre friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:48:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 42,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23410447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2MusicLover2/pseuds/2MusicLover2
Summary: Harry has survived his first year at Hogwarts and all of the trials that came with it, but now his second year seems like it might be a little bit worse. Everyone is accusing either him or his best friend, Draco Malfoy, of being the Heir of Slytherin and attempting to purge the school of Muggleborns, but he swears neither of them are behind the petrifications.Book 2 of the “...And They Were Friends” series, in which I write how I think the story would have gone if Harry and Draco became friends instead of enemies in their first year.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Narcissa Black Malfoy & Harry Potter
Series: ...And They Were Friends [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1434388
Comments: 96
Kudos: 86





	1. Rescue From Number Four

It only takes two weeks of Harry enduring what is quite possible the worst and most miserable summer ever before he is saved. Those two weeks truly are the epitome of despair, though. He doesn’t receive any letters from his friends; Uncle Vernon won’t let him let Hedwig out to stretch her wings which makes her hoot loudly and annoyedly throughout the day and night, angering Uncle Vernon even further; and he just really misses life at Hogwarts.

Help comes in the form of Harry’s best friend, Draco Malfoy, and his mother, Narcissa Malfoy, when they appear with a loud _crack_ in the Dursleys’ living room in the middle of breakfast one Saturday morning.

“Excuse me, but who are you?!” Uncle Vernon shouts at them. “You are breaking and entering, and I’ve had enough of _your kind_ doing that on my property to la at me a lifetime already, thank you very much!”

Narcissa doesn’t even blink at him, only smiling at Harry and dropping her son’s arm to walk over to Harry standing by the stovetop cooking bacon and check him over for any injuries.

“Harry, dear, are you well? Draco told me he hasn’t received any letters from you and we’ve been worried,” she says, although her cool and collected tone and appearance contradict the last part of her statement.

“I’m alright,” Harry says, stopping in his cooking to smile at her and return her hug, which initially surprises him. “I just haven’t been able to let Hedwig out to send anything.”

“That’s good,” Narcissa says, pulling away and letting Draco take over the hug. “Do you have anything packed?” she asks, and Harry shakes his head. “How about you and Draco go and pack them, then. I want to have a little chat with your aunt and uncle, and then we can head back to the manor.”

“Manor?” Uncle Vernon asks, seemingly much more interested in the conversation at this single word. “I didn’t think your kind could live in manors.”

“Oh, yes,” Narcissa says, suddenly haughty and regal. “ _Our kind_ can be extremely wealthy, in fact, most wizarding families _are_. I believe the only Muggles wealthier than my family are the royals, but we might even have _them_ beat. Lots of land both here and in France, you know, and we like to keep high positions within the Wizarding World. Only the best for the Malfoys, as my husband always says, and with me growing up a Black it was much the same.”

Harry smirks at Uncle Vernon’s purpling face as he takes in this information in a way that he definitely learned how to do from Draco, before Draco drags him out of the kitchen to start packing.

“Where are your things?” Draco asks.

“Um… my school stuff is in the cupboard under the stairs, but all of my clothes and Hedwig are upstairs in my room. The cupboard’s locked, though, we can’t get in,” Harry replies.

Draco grins wickedly. “You’re a wizard, Harry. You can get in anywhere.”

“We’re not allowed to do magic outside of school, though,” Harry says.

“Oh, fine,” Draco says, rolling his eyes. “Be that way. Dobby!”

A second later there is another _crack_ and this time, the Malfoys’ house-elf, Dobby, appears.

“What is it you is needing Dobby to do, Young Master Draco, sir?” Dobby asks before he notices Harry standing next to Draco. “Harry Potter, sir! Dobby is happy to be seeing you, sir! Is Harry Potter needing help from Dobby, too?”

“Um, yes,” Harry says, realizing what it is that Draco called Dobby for. “We both need the same thing actually. Can you unlock that cupboard for us so we can get my school things out?”

“Of course, Harry Potter, sir!” Dobby squeaks, and then he snaps his fingers and the cupboard door swings open to reveal Harry’s trunk with his Hogwarts robes and his school books and his cauldron, all tucked away inside. “Is that all, sirs?”

“Yes, Dobby, that’s all for now. We’ll be see you back at the manor later today,” Draco says, and Dobby disapparates with another _crack_. “Okay, so that’s all of that stuff. Now we just need to pack the rest of your things and then we tell Mum we’re ready to go.”

Harry’s bedroom was originally Dudley’s second bedroom, and the evidence of it is still there. Broken toys and entertainment sets fill most of the room, as Harry has yet to find someplace else to put them.

“What is all this rubbish?” Draco asks, looking around the room with a grimace.

“Not mine,” Harry says instead of answering. He doubts Draco actually knows what any of it is, it’s all too Muggle, and he doesn’t really feel like taking the time to explain it all. “Come on, help me pack.”

Harry wads up his clothes that make him look the least like a mouse trying on an elephant’s skin and stuffs them inside his trunk wherever they’ll fit; he knows he has wizard’s robes in his closet at Malfoy Manor, and he doesn’t really see a point in dressing Muggle. He then puts the book Hagrid had given him as a gift at the end of his first year gently inside his trunk in a place where it can’t get ruined by anything around it. Lastly, he closes the trunk and lets Hedwig out of her cage, telling her to fly ahead to Malfoy Manor.

“Ready then?” Draco asks, and Harry nods.

They carry Harry’s things back down to the living room where Narcissa seems to be wrapping up her conversation with the Dursleys, a soft yet malicious smile graces Narcissa’s face as she looks at Uncle Vernon’s angry purple face and Aunt Petunia’s guarded expression.

“Ah, you’re all packed and ready to go, I take it?” Narcissa asks Harry, standing up rather elegantly. Harry decides both she and Draco look severely out of place in the Dursleys’ home, not just because they are so obviously magical in a Muggle setting, but because the house just seems too simple for them. These are the people who own albino peacocks that just wander the grounds of their manor, after all.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” Harry says with a smile, thankful to be able to escape from this place to somewhere he is actually welcome.

“Good,” Narcissa replies, before turning to the Dursleys again. “He’ll spend the rest of the summer with us. I do understand that Dumbledore wishes him to spend at least some time here every year, however, so he will, unfortunately, have to come back here next summer. We will be taking him back if we have any reason to We will be taking him back if we have any reason to believe he is not being treated properly, and then Dumbledore will be hearing from me about changing this little _arrangement_ he has with you.”

“We understand,” Aunt Petunia says. Harry is surprised to hear the tone she uses when she’s gossiping and pretending to be better than everyone else, although he is surprised to here a note of sincerity in her voice. Maybe he’s imagining things.

“Come, Harry, Draco,” Narcissa says, beckoning the boys closer to her and pulling out her wand, waving it at Harry’s luggage to shrink it so Harry can put it in his pocket.

Harry and Draco each grab one of Narcissa’s arms and then he feels the strange sensation the goes along with apparating: the feeling of being stretched like taffy and forced through a small tube before they finally land in front of the elaborate and magical front gate of Malfoy Manor.

“Welcome home,” Draco says happily as they walk through the iron bars together, and Harry smiles.

He wouldn’t mind this being home, he had enjoyed himself immensely when he came here last Christmas, once he had gotten used to the place. Draco had even suggested the idea of Harry moving in then, and Harry was all for it. He already has his own room and after a week or so he and Draco had traveled the manor and its grounds enough that he knew his way around. Apparently, the only thing stopping him from living here is Dumbledore. Harry wonders why that is exactly, but can’t come up with any explanations.

The grounds of Malfoy Manor are a different kind of fascinating in the summer than they are in the winter. Where the grounds were once covered in delicate, glimmering, pristine white snow, brilliantly green grass sparkles in its place, not a weed in sight. Occasionally, Harry spots a cobblestone path twisting across the grounds, leading to a garden, the stables, the expansive forest with the secret cabin Draco’s grandfather lives in, a large pond, and other things that Harry has yet to discover.

One of the many albino peacocks that roams the grounds steps up to them and starts following them as they walk up the front steps then stares at them as the doors magically open themselves and they head inside the manor. The inside hasn’t changed as much as the outside has, in fact, it’s exactly the way Harry remembers it from Christmas.

“Race you to your room!” Draco says suddenly and then they both take off running, Narcissa not even bothering to call after them as she knows it will do no good.

Harry’s room in the manor is exactly how he left it, albeit cleaner. The bed sheets are now stretched tight across the bed instead of rumpled from his sleeping in them, the curtains are pulled back to reveal a view of the front garden, and his belongings have not yet been strewn across the floor.

Harry and Draco make quick work of unpacking, hanging the few cloths Harry brought up in the closet for Dobby to iron later, setting the photo book from Hagrid on the bedside table, putting his school stuff and Hedwig’s cage on the desk in the corner of the room, and then stuffing his trunk underneath his bed.

This room looks more like his room than his room at the Dursleys’ ever did and the only truly personal thing he has here is that single photo book.

“Do you think your parents would mind if I decorated?” Harry asks, deciding that even though he is already starting to feel at home he wants to make it even more so.

Draco shrugs. “Everyone else has and they didn’t care, so I don’t see why not. Maybe you, me, Mum, and Dobby could go to Diagon Alley tomorrow to look for stuff!”

“Brilliant!” Harry replies, smiling around at _his_ room.

~*~

Dinner is nowhere near as torturous an affair as it had been at the Dursleys’ or here back at Christmas. Harry quickly picked up on the proper etiquette of dining with the Malfoys back then, and as long as he avoids talking to Mr. Malfoy, he has nothing to worry about. It all works out, too, as Mr. Malfoy seems to be resolutely ignoring Harry as well in preference of eating in silence as Narcissa, Draco, and Harry chatter away around him.

That is, until dessert.

“So, Potter, I understand you will be staying here for the rest of the summer, and possibly next summer as well,” Mr. Malfoy says.

Harry’s eyes widen and he looks between Draco and Narcissa for a second before answering Mr. Malfoy. “Uh, yes, sir. I hope that’s not an issue?” he can’t help that a slight amount of sarcasm enters his voice as he replies, causing Mr. Malfoy to raise an eyebrow, but the man makes no comment on it.

“It’s no issue at all,” he says. “I was just thinking that since you _are_ going to be here for a while, maybe it would be… most prudent… that you learn a few things about this family and the way things are done here.”

“Um… okay… sir,” Harry replies, not quite sure how else to respond.

“Excellent,” Mr. Malfoy says, and that’s the end of all conversation at the table for the rest of the evening.

~*~

The next morning, Harry slips on some of the lighter and more summery looking wizard’s robes before stepping out into the hall where he meets Draco and they head down to breakfast together, during which Narcissa informs them that all four of them will be taking a walk around the grounds together after breakfast. She winks at Harry and he thinks maybe he’s supposed to know something significant about this walk, but he can’t think of anything.

As it turns out, he _does_ know something. Shortly after starting their walk, they turn down a path heading to the forest on the grounds, and Harry realizes exactly what is going on. His ideas are only proven when they finally step into a clearing in the forest that reveals a cabin, Draco’s grandfather Abraxas sitting on a wooden chair on the front porch, sipping on what looks like pumpkin juice.

“Ah, you must be Harry!” Abraxas says jovially, shaking Harry’s hand as they all walk up the stairs and onto the wraparound porch.

“Yes! And, you are…?” Harry says, playing along as if he’s never met this man before.

“Abraxas Malfoy. Draco’s grandfather,” Abraxas replies, his smile mischievous. “Oh, come in, come in! We can chat outside later. Now, I believe we have some family history to discuss?”

And just like that, Harry is re-experiencing the second day he spent at the manor when he stayed for Christmas, only this time in the presence of Narcissa and Mr. Malfoy. The first time, Narcissa had only known that Harry would be learning of the Malfoys’ dealings with less sinister dealings with Muggles, but it seems this time they would be letting Mr. Malfoy in on the secret.

“Are you following, dear boy?” Abraxas asks Harry when he is finished with his detailed explanation of the Malfoy family history.

“I think so,” Harry replies, trying to act like he is still processing this information that he had already accepted about six months ago. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“No doubt it is, no doubt,” Abraxas says. “How about you and Draco come downstairs with me? You can see all of our prizes for yourself. Lucius, Narcissa, help yourselves to anything in the kitchen.”

Harry walks down the creaky wooden stairs just behind Draco and Abraxas, and they all start laughing when they make it to the bottom.

“We’re letting Mr. Malfoy in on the secret in the least controversial way possible, I take it?” Harry says once they have calmed down.

Abraxas nods. “Narcissa told me you’d be staying here and I wanted you boys to be able to visit, so she and I talked Lucius into allowing you to know everything.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” Harry says, smiling. “I rather enjoy it here and I didn’t want to have to try and keep that secret forever. Don’t worry, though, _this_ secret is perfectly safe with me,” Harry says, motioning around at all of the Muggle artwork and artifacts around the basement.

“I never had any doubts, my dear boy,” Abraxas says.

They go back upstairs to find Narcissa sipping on a glass of lemonade while Mr. Malfoy remains expressionless, seared at the little island in the kitchen.

“What do you say we all head outside to talk on the porch? It’s a beautiful day out. Maybe we can have Dobby bring us some snacks for lunch?” Abraxas asks.

“I think that sounds lovely,” Narcissa says, and they all head outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y’all!
> 
> Book 2 is here!
> 
> I was so excited to write this that I started as soon as I finished book 1, so now I’ve got a few chapters pre-written, so there definitely won’t be any late updates for a bit!
> 
> I’ve already got a ton of ideas for this book, and all of the chapters are already planned out, so I know what I want to go in them and how many there will be. All I have left to do is write them out :)
> 
> What did you think of this chapter? Are you glad Harry is at Malfoy Manor for the summer? What was your favorite part so far? What are you looking forward to for this book? I have a ton of questions, and I look forward to seeing your answers in the comments! Remember, I reply to every one of your comments, but be sure to tell me how you really feel, I won’t get offended!
> 
> As always, kudos are so greatly appreciated, but I appreciate every single one of you that reads this, especially those of you who put in the time to read my rambling author’s notes at the end of every chapter, so shout out to you all!
> 
> Make sure to subscribe to get notified whenever I update, new chapters come out on Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading!  
> -2MusicLover2


	2. Dobby

That night, Harry and Draco are sitting on Draco’s bed, listening the the Wizarding Wireless Network (WWN) and talking when there is a sudden tapping at the window.

“I’m just saying that I don’t care how little or how long you’ve been living in the Wizarding World, you _have_ to at least _know about_ the Weird Sisters. They’re only _the best and most popular_ wizard band around,” Draco says as he walks over to the window and opens it, letting Hedwig in.

“Literally everything I know about the Wizarding World I’ve learned from you, so you only have yourself to blame for that one,” Harry retorts with a laugh, holding out his arm for Hedwig to come perch on it.

Draco scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Oh, please,” he says derisively. “Don’t turn this around on me.”

Although, Harry can tell he is only acting annoyed, as he has the faintest of smiles on his face when he sits back down across from Harry.

“So, the Muggles really just wouldn’t let you let her? Not even to let her hunt? How did she get food?” Draco asks, stroking the top of Hedwig’s head gently with the backs of his fingers.

“I snuck some of my dinner to her every day,” Harry replies.

“That’s…” Draco shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have to do that.”

Harry shrugs. “I’m here now, though, so it doesn’t really matter anymore.”

“I know. Mum and I just got so worried when you weren’t responding to my letters. I even went so far as to owl Hermione and Weasley and they both said you weren’t responding to any of their letters either.”

“I—” Harry furrows his brow in confusion. “I never got any letters. From anyone.”

“I sent you one practically every day! How could you not have received them?” Draco asks incredulously.

“Maybe Uncle Vernon was hiding them from me, like he did my Hogwarts letters,” Harry suggests.

Draco shakes his head. “No, the owls would have all gone directly to you. Personal owls don’t just drop stuff at people’s doors and call it a day, they make sure the addressee gets their letter because they want food or affection in return. That and they’re just more loyal and friendly altogether, but that’s besides the point.”

“What could have stopped me from getting my letters then?” Harry wonders.

Draco is about to answer, but then Dobby appears looking rather frightened.

“What’s wrong, Dobby?” Draco asks the house-elf with slight concern.

“Dobby is very sorry,” Dobby says, wringing his hands together anxiously.

“What did you do, Dobby?” Draco asks, his tone switching from concerned to warning.

“Dobby is very, very sorry, but Dobby has to do it. Harry Potter was not safe—Harry Potter is not safe—”

“What are you talking about, Dobby?” asks Harry, cutting the elf off.

“Dobby had to stop Harry Potter from receiving his letters so Harry Potter might think he has no friends and Harry Potter might not go back to Hogwarts. Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts!” Dobby cries, launching himself at on of the bedposts and banging his head against it.

Harry grabs Dobby by the back of his pillowcase outfit and pulls him away from the bedpost. “ _You_ stopped by letters from coming through?”

“Dobby is sorry but Dobby had to do it!” he sobs.

“Where are my letters, Dobby?” Harry demands.

“Never mind that, what do you mean Harry isn’t safe at Hogwarts?” Draco asks.

Dobby suddenly stops sobbing—Harry thinks he might never understand house-elves and their constant mood swings—and looks between Draco and Harry conspiratorially. “Hogwarts is not safe for Harry Potter this year. Bad things are happening there. Evil things. Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts this year.”

“What about me?” Draco asks, seemingly scandalized as he puts a hand on his chest dramatically.

“Young Master Malfoy is much safer than Harry Potter. Young Master Malfoy does not have to worry, he can go to Hogwarts safely, but Harry Potter is not safe,” Dobby replies.

“Wow, thanks for the concern,” Draco says, sarcasm filling every ounce of his voice and posture.

“Why is Hogwarts not safe for me? What kind of evil is happening there?” Harry asks, but Dobby only leaps off of the bed and starts banging his head against the wall.

“Dobby. Can’t. Say.” Each word is punctuated by another bang against the wall until Harry grabs him again.

“Fine. I get it. You can’t say. Can I at least have my letters?” Harry pleads.

Slowly, Dobby reaches inside his pillowcase and pulls out a small stack of letters, each addressed to Harry, and hands it over with trembling hands.

“Thank you, Dobby,” Harry says as he flips through the letters, skimming through them.

Dobby gives Harry a slight bow before disapparating.

“Well, at least we found out who’s been keeping your letters from you,” Draco says.

~*~

“We have information,” Draco announces the next morning at breakfast.

Shortly after Dobby had given Harry his letters, Harry had retired to his own room to read them all thoroughly and respond to the ones not from Draco. He spent much of that time also contemplating what could evil could possibly be lurking at Hogwarts that Dobby would insist he didn’t go. After all, _Voldemort himself_ had been physically attached to one of the Hogwarts professors the previous year. How much worse could it get?

“Mmhm,” Narcissa says as she spread jam on her toast. “And what kind of information might that be, sweetheart?”

“The reason Harry wasn’t responding to any of my letters was because he never received any,” Draco replies.

Narcissa looks up, her brow furrowed and lips pursed in confusion. “What do you mean Harry didn’t receive your letters? How is that possible?”

Draco looks pointedly at Dobby pouring tea into Mr. Malfoy’s teacup and the house-elf starts shaking. “Dobby’s been stopping them.”

“Well, that’s not a very good house-elf, stopping his master from sending letters,” Mr. Malfoy drawls. “Ten slams in the oven door for your hands, elf.”

“That’s not necessary, Father, he’s already been punished,” Draco says with a heavy sneer.

Mr. Malfoy hums. “Yes, well, a little extra punishment never hurts. Maybe it’ll teach him a lesson or two before I have to resort to _harsher_ methods.”

Harry doesn’t dare to speak, the silent battle going on between Draco and Mr. Malfoy makes his hair stand on end and he feels a slight crackle in the air that he realizes is actually waves of anger-filled magic rolling off of Draco.

It’s Narcissa who finally speaks up. “I trust that Draco has seen to it that the elf has been punished well enough. There is no need to undermine him, Lucius. You do wish to see him grow up to run this family, don’t you?”

“Very well,” Mr. Malfoy eventually says, all he keeps his stare on his son for a moment longer before turning back to his breakfast.

“Why was Dobby keeping Harry from receiving any letters?” Narcissa asks.

“He said—” Harry starts, but Draco cuts him off.

“He said that he knew Harry’s uncle would be unhappy with Harry receiving letters, especially in such a Wizarding way, and he wanted to protect Harry.”

Harry looks at Draco questioningly but Draco doesn’t take his eyes off of his mother.

“Ah. Noble reasoning, although I’m sure Harry would have been able to hide the letters well enough,” Narcissa says. “As it is, we do have Dobby to thank for Harry being here, so I suppose maybe it was the right call to make.”

“Thank you, Mistress Malfoy,” Dobby mumbles.

“Now, enough of this,” Narcissa says, her tone cheerful. “We have breakfast to eat and a day to start.”

~*~

Draco and Harry decide to take a walk in the gardens later that day, the little radio floating along beside them tuned in to the WWN. Once Harry is sure that there is no one near them, not even those albino peacocks that roam the grounds, he decides to finally ask Draco the question that has been bothering him since breakfast.

“Why did you make up that story to your mum about why Dobby had been stealing my letters?”

They walk in silence for a moment longer before Draco finally answers.

“Mum is very… protective of me and my friends. If she knew that there was the possibility of danger at Hogwarts this year… we might not get to go. Be glad you weren’t here when she found out about Quirrell and the third-floor corridor. She was _furious_ and I had to promise her not to do anything like it again in order to come back.”

“Oh,” Harry says. “I’m sorry I dragged you into that mess and made your mum angry with you.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “She wasn’t angry with _me_. And no, she wasn’t angry with you, either, before you ask. She was mostly mad at Dumbledore for even putting that risk on his students by allowing the Stone to be stored at the school, and for not doing better background checks on his teachers, and even a little bit at the Flamels just because it was their Stone we were protecting.”

“Oh. Well, I guess we should probably try and be safer this year, then,” Harry says.

“Are you kidding?” Draco asks, laughing. “Then how’re we supposed to have fun? No, we’ll still do just the same stuff as we did last year, only maybe just a bit more inconspicuously. What Mum doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Harry laughs. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Sorry for want to make our lives a little interesting while we’re supposed to be _learning_ ,” Draco replies, his face bright with a smile. “So, did you write back to everyone and tell them all about what happened?”

“Yeah, just waiting for their replies now,” Harry says.

“Great,” Draco says, then he stops walking, squinting off into the distance, back in the direction of the front gates. “Is that…?”

Harry tries to squint too, but sees nothing. “What? What’re you looking at?”

But then Harry sees it: a brightly colored carriage rolling straight through the iron gates as if they weren’t there, and making its way up to the manor.

“I absolutely forgot!” Draco exclaims. “My cousin Luna is visiting, you remember her from Christmas, don’t you?”

Harry vaguely remembers a girl with a similar hair color and complexion to Draco talking to him briefly during the Christmas Eve celebration. “Yeah, I think I remember, although not much.”

“Come on, then, let’s go see her.”

They make their way back to the manor, the radio still trailing along after them, and arrive at the front door just as it is opening for Luna and what seems to be her father.

“Ah, Draco, how have you been?” Luna’s father asks, gripping Draco’s shoulder.

“I’ve been good, Uncle Xenophilius. How have you been?” Draco asks in return.

“Fairly well, fairly well. And who might this be?”

Harry holds out his hand for the man to shake. “Harry Potter, sir,” he says, although he gets the feeling that Mr. Lovegood is nowhere near as formal as Mr. Malfoy.

“Xenophilius Lovegood. I’m Luna’s father. I’m glad to be meeting you, Mr. Potter, you are a very powerful and noble wizard, indeed,” Mr. Lovegood says, still shaking Harry’s hand.

“Oh, Harry, I didn’t see you there!” Luna exclaims, her soft and musical voice making her exclamation seem somehow timid despite her far from timid demeanor.

“Hi, Luna,” Harry says, and Mr. Lovegood finally releases Harry’s hand. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m doing quite well. Daddy is letting me write a piece in the _Quibbler_ about nargles,” she says. Harry has no idea what nargles are and isn’t exactly sure that they are real, but Luna’s wide eyes keeps him from telling her that.

“That’s nice,” Harry says as brightly as he can manage, which turn out to actually be quite genuine as he finds his mood greatly improving talking to Luna. “What’s the _Quibbler_?”

“Daddy’s paper,” Luna replies as she, Harry, and Draco head upstairs and towards the wing with Harry’s and Draco’s bedrooms. “More of a magazine, actually. I can lend you a copy, if you’d like?”

Harry smiles. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

He thinks this summer might not be so bad after all, spending it with Draco and Luna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> How have you all been? I’ve been hanging in there, but I just found out that my school year is over so I’m losing the last three months of my senior year which is kind of extremely upsetting but I understand why it’s happening. I’ve been keeping my mind off of it by doing a lot of writing lately, and becoming a better cook and baker. Yesterday I made meringues with mixed berry compote and they tasted amazing, although they didn’t look the prettiest, but it was my first time attempting to make it so I wasn’t expecting much.
> 
> What are your thoughts on this book so far? Are you glad Harry is with the Malfoys? Who’s excited to have Luna already? Let me know in the comments below!
> 
> Well, that’s all I have for now. Please leave kudos and comment, it brightens my day so much when you do, and I reply to all comments, it’s so much fun for me! Also, make sure to subscribe so you can be notified whenever I post a new chapter. Updates come out every Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday!
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading!  
> -2MusicLover2


	3. Magical Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been edited since it was originally published, because I wasn’t that fond of how it ended.

Adding Luna to their duo is comfortable and easy, as if she had been missing all along and now the are all finally reunited. Harry supposes it helps that she is Draco’s cousin, and they have grown up together, and that Luna has been the one to first make Harry feel welcome and comfortable in a room where he was anything but that. He wants to be her friend, wants to learn about all of her crazy and insane ideas and riddle them out with her until they don’t feel so crazy and insane anymore. Her soft and considerate nature is a welcome change to Draco’s constant dramatics and sarcastic remarks, however, he doesn’t find himself tiring of either of them.

Harry quickly discovers that attempting to play Seeker’s games of Quidditch with Draco and Luna can be a bit of a… mentally trying task, he phrases it in his head when Luna gets distracted for the sixth time and ends up abruptly stopping mid-flight to watch something, resulting in the snitch accidentally getting tangled in her hair for Draco and Harry to delicately remove. All too quickly, the get frustrated with the blonde locks wrapped around the wings and grooves of the ball as Luna sits patiently, so the three friends head inside.

“Mum!” Draco calls as soon as they step through the front doors. No reply comes, so they have to go searching, eventually finding Narcissa in the kitchen, elbows deep in some kind of dough as she kneads and mixes it. “Mum, Luna’s got the snitch in her hair again and we can’t get it out.”

Harry’s not at all surprised that this isn’t the first time it’s happened.

Narcissa smiles fondly at the three of them and pulls her arms out of the bowl. She grabs her wand, using it to flick most of the dough off of her hands and back into the bowl, charming it to finish kneading itself, then washes off the remaining dough in the sink and dries off her hands. Luna smiles up at her as Narcissa puts her hands on her hips, gauging what kind of destruction has been done to Luna’s hair and the snitch, before she guides Luna to a stool and has her sit on it so she can gently start unraveling the strands of hair.

“What caught your eye this time, Luna Balloon-a?” Narcissa asks gently.

Behind her, Draco inspects the bowl of dough and swipes his finger through it, sticking it in his mouth before humming in approval. He motions Harry over to join him, and they both start snacking at the chocolate chip cookie dough, one swipe of their finger at a time.

“The thestrals were flying over the forest and looking rather beautiful today,” Luna replies, swinging her legs in circles.

“Have you been out to visit them yet? I’m sure they’d enjoy having some company,” Narcissa says, then, “Boys, get away from that dough before I charm it to start eating _you_.”

Harry smiles and obediently stops eating, but Draco takes one more bite, earning his mother’s glare.

“That’s for later,” she says, still glaring at her son who only grins back. She doesn’t charm the dough to start eating them, however. Instead, she finishes extricating the snitch from Luna’s hair, then, with a wave of her hand, the fridge opens and out of it zooms an egg that cracks itself open over Draco’s head, dripping its contents into his hair.

“Mum!” he shouts, although Harry thinks he doesn’t look the least bit threatening with egg yolk dripping down his head.

“What dear?” Narcissa asks innocently, handing the snitch to Luna and going back to her cookie baking.

“Oh, it’s on,” Draco says, and he opens the nearest cupboard, grabbing the first thing he can find—a bag of flour—and plunges his hand into it to throw a fistful of the white powder at his mother.

Of course, flour isn’t the easiest thing to throw, and he’s not that close to Narcissa, so only a small amount gets on her, but she laughs anyways and returns the food-assault with some chocolate chips, a couple of which get stuck in the yellow yolk running down the side of Draco’s head. The fight quickly escalates to include both Harry and Luna, all four of them throwing whatever the can find at each other as they laugh and quickly make messes of themselves and the kitchen.

The fight only stops when Dobby appears, ready to help Narcissa in her cooking and baking, only to have a dejected look settle on his face as he sees what he is going to have to clean up.

Narcissa sighs. “I can handle the mess, Dobby. You just replace our stocks with whatever has been depleted.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dobby says, popping off to complete his duty.

With a wave of her wand, the children have most of the mess cleaned off of them, and with another wave the kitchen looks just as spotless as it had when they first entered it.

“Go clean up, you three. Then you can help me finish cooking as you seem so intent on making a mess of my kitchen.”

She smiles at them all in that motherly way that Harry has become used to seeing on her, and they all head upstairs to their rooms to wash up, laughing on their way there.

~*~

Luna doesn’t stay for long, only a few days, and Harry can easily say that he is sad to see her go. She reassures him, however, that they will be seeing each other again.

“I’ll be starting at Hogwarts this year,” she says as he and Draco hug her goodbye. “We can talk again there.”

“Okay,” Harry agrees.

“Come on, Harry,” Draco says once the carriage carrying Luna and her father has passed through the front gates on its way back to their own home. “As much as I love Luna, she makes it difficult to play a good Seeker’s game. We should go play some, the Seeker’s spot on the Quidditch team is open this year and I intend for us to try out.”

So, they run off to the garden shed where the brooms are stored and they each grab a broom while Draco also grabs one of the practice snitches the chest of Quidditch supplies.

Harry feels amazing flying, it’s one of the best things he’s ever felt. The wind in his hair, making it even more tangled and messy than usual, the absolute weightlessness of his body soaring the sky as he bends low over the broomstick, leaning into each and every turn to go through it without feeling the broom jerk and revolt against him. He loves every second of it, and the feeling of elation only increases when Draco releases the snitch and their game begins.

They spend the afternoon chasing after glints and flashes of gold shooting through the sky, one of them catching it every once in a while. They end when the sun starts setting and Narcissa calls them inside to have dinner, Harry having caught the snitch seven times compared to Draco’s four. To be fair, Draco probably would have caught it a few more times if he hadn’t been so focused on taunting Harry whenever Draco won or Harry missed his attempt.

“So,” Mr. Malfoy says as they are all cutting into their steaks, “I understand your birthday is coming up, Harry.”

Harry is not at all surprised that Mr. Malfoy knows this, he’d told Draco when his birthday was back when they first became friends at the beginning of first year and knew that the information had been relayed back to the boy’s parents, he’s more surprised that Mr. Malfoy is acknowledging this fact in a way that seems as if he plans on actually _celebrating_ Harry’s birthday.

“Um, yes, sir. Next Friday,” Harry says, pausing in taking a bite of his mashed potatoes.

Mr. Malfoy nods. “How would you like your classmates to come over that day?”

“Yes, that’d be brilliant, sir,” says Harry, his eyes and smile widening as he glances around the table at each of the Malfoys.

“I shall inform the families, then. I do hope you understand, however, that your friends Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley will not be invited? I do still have to keep up certain appearances to the other families, and, well, a Mudblood and a Blood-Traitor wouldn’t exactly be welcome,” Mr. Malfoy says. He seems almost guilty, but mostly his face remains neutral and blank, a cold mask set in its place.

“I… understand,” Harry says. “I can just celebrate with them once school starts or something. You families secrets are safe with me.”

A somewhat relieved smile crosses Mr. Malfoys face, but it’s gone so quickly that Harry almost thinks he’s imagining it. Almost.

“What would you like for your birthday dinner and pudding, then, dear?” Narcissa asks.

Harry’s never been asked about ‘birthday dinner and pudding’ before; actually, he’s never really celebrated his birthday before, at all. He has no idea what to say.

“Um…” he says, completely at a loss of what foods he likes. “Steak and kidney pie sounds nice, like at Hogwarts,” he finally settles on. “And I really like treacle fudge.”

“Perfect!” Narcissa says with a smile. “Steak and kidney pie for the main course and then treacle pie after. That sounds lovely, dear.”

Harry smiles. He _really_ thinks he’d be okay living with the Malfoys for good.

~*~

Harry wakes up on the morning of his birthday to Draco bouncing on his bed, Dobby standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Happy birthday, Harry!” Draco says as Harry sits up slowly and rubs his eyes. “I was going to let you sleep in but I’m actually _really_ hungry and everyone’s going to start getting here in a couple of hours, so we should really get started on breakfast.” He continues bouncing.

“Okay, okay, I’m up,” Harry says. “Lemme go wash up first and then we can head down to breakfast.”

“Ugh, fine,” Draco replies, rolling his eyes as he gets up off of Harry’s bed and leaves his room.

About twenty minutes later, Harry steps out of his room wearing casual, pale blue robes the same shade as the sky above the manor on a cloudless day. He crosses the hall to knock on Draco’s door, who immediately opens it and they race downstairs into the informal dining hall where a breakfast feast is laid out on the table.

Harry’s mouth waters at the plates stacked with pancakes, waffles, French toast, and crepes; the bowls of juicy looking fruit; and the platters of sausages and bacon strips. If this is what birthday breakfast is like at Malfoy Manor, he only hopes he can spend every birthday here for the rest of his life.

“Happy birthday, Harry, dear,” Narcissa says, smiling and stroking his hair as she paces by him to sit in her own seat.

“Thanks, Narcissa!” Harry says with a grin, only looking at her briefly for fear that Draco might steal all of the food.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” Mr. Malfoy says from across the table.

“Thank you, sir,” Harry replies.

He then starts digging into his breakfast, never having tasted anything so amazing before, not even at Hogwarts.

After breakfast, Harry and Draco head outside for a few Seeker’s games in which they both catch the snitch twice before their friends start arriving.

First to come is Pansy Parkinson, who seems to be rather disgruntled to have Holly coming along with her.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” Pansy says, giving him a quick hug before she goes to hug and greet Draco as well.

“Happy birthday, Harry!” Holly says, much more enthusiastic than her sister in both her tone of voice and the way she hugs Harry, ruffling his hair as she pulls away.

“Hey!” Harry says, pushing her hands away from his head.

“Oh, it’s not like I’ve made it any worse. Just come in from flying, did you?” she asks, and he nods his head.

Shortly after they arrive, it seems that everyone else arrives in a flood. Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Millicent Bulstrode, and, to Harry’s great surprise and delight, Luna Lovegood, make up the remaining guests at his birthday celebration.

The celebration takes place outside in the gardens, everyone laughing and having fun together, and just generally hanging out as if it were any other day. Harry wouldn’t have it any other way, though. He doesn’t need some grand celebration, just his friends with him, and he’s thankful that either Narcissa or Draco knew that when planning this.

He opens his gifts after they finish the treacle fudge, slightly surprised they had gotten him anything, but still immensely grateful.

All too sun, the sky is getting dark as the sun finishes setting, and his friends all have to go home, although each of them promise to write more before they go back to school. All in all, it’s a great day for Harry, one of the best days of his life, in fact. When he finally drifts off to sleep that night, Draco next to him after claiming that they need a sleepover to stay up late and keep talking, all Harry can think is that this might have been the happiest day of his life.

~*~

Not long after Harry’s birthday, a grey owl arrives at the manor with Hogwarts letters for both Harry and Draco containing their list of school supplies for the upcoming year. Harry also receives a letter from Ron saying what day he and Hermione are planning on meeting in Diagon Alley and asking Harry and the Malfoys to join them. When Harry tells Narcissa, she tells him to accept the invitation, although Mr. Malfoy seems slightly unhappy about it.

So, on the day planned for them all to meet, Harry gets ready then walks down to breakfast with Draco as usual, eating quickly in anticipation of seeing his two other best friends, then grabs his letter and prepares to side-along apparate to Diagon Alley. He goes with Narcissa and they land in the Leaky Cauldron, a wizarding pub at the entrance to Diagon Alley.

“You take the boys, Narcissa, I must head over to Borgin and Burke’s for some business,” Mr. Malfoy says as soon as he and Draco pop into existence next to them.

“But, Father, can’t we come? Please?” Draco begs, turning watery eyes on Mr. Malfoy.

Harry scoffs. He had never known Draco could cry on command like that. It might’ve been useful in getting them out of detention last year. Maybe they could try it this year. Then again, a better plan would be to just not get detention in the first place.

Mr. Malfoy looks down at his son. “Very well, Draco, but neither of you are allowed to touch _anything_ ,” he says, his voice deadly.

Draco grins and Narcissa looks apprehensive.

“Oh, all right,” she finally says. “I guess I’ll just go and draw some money out, then. Both of you, _behave yourselves_.”

“Yes, Mum!”

“Of course, Narcissa!”

They then walk out the back of the Leaky Cauldron and Mr. Malfoy taps on the brick wall with his wand to reveal the magical archway through which Diagon Alley is hidden.

Narcissa splits of from them to head to Gringotts, the wizarding bank, as Harry follows Mr. Malfoy and Draco off onto a dark side street with a sign reading _Knockturn Alley_.

This particular part of Wizarding London is much darker and scarier than Diagon Alley or the Leaky Cauldron. The storefronts are all different shades of grey and black, and every witch and wizard seems either insane or terrifying or a combination of the two. Harry ushers closet to Draco and Mr. Malfoy as a witch holding what seems to be a platter of toenails starts walking towards him, and upon seeing his company she changes direction and starts heading to someone else.

Finally, the come to the proper shop and enter, Harry immediately shivering at all of the strange and creepy objects around him.

“Remember, look but _don’t touch_ ,” Mr. Malfoy reminds them as he steps up to the front counter.

Draco starts wandering through the many aisles of the shop, Harry following closely behind him and constantly reminding him not to touch anything.

“Ah, Lucius, how have you been, how have you been? It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Since Christmas I believe,” Harry hears from the front of the shop.

The voice seems to attract Draco’s attention as he turns away from a wardrobe he had been reaching towards, about to attempt opening it, and motions for Harry to follow him back to the counter.

“I’ve been well, Mr. Borgin. You?” Mr. Malfoy replies as Draco sidles up next to him, Harry following his lead and trying to act as if he belongs in a shop such as this one.

“Very well, indeed. Young Master Malfoy!” Mr. Borgin says when he sees Draco. “Glad to see you as well. And who is this?”

Harry glances quickly at Draco who gives him a significant look before he sticks his hand out to Mr. Borgin in a way of greeting, a smirk almost identical to Draco’s plastered on his face. “Potter, sir. Harry Potter,” he says, and next to him he hears Draco cover up his snort with a cough which Mr. Borgin doesn’t seem to notice.

“Are you really?” he asks Harry in that same disbelieving yet star struck way that everyone uses to ask him those very same words whenever he tells them his name.

“Yes, Mr. Borgin, although I believe we have business to attend to?” Mr. Malfoy replies, reminding Harry slightly of Professor Snape.

“Right, sir. What can I get for you today?”

“Not buying, Mr. Borgin—selling,” Mr. Malfoy says, pulling a piece of parchment out of his cloak which he hands over. “I have these items in my possession at the manor which I believe would be an awful shame for anyone to find. Ministry’s been doing raids, see, and I only wish to get rid of a few of our more… _questionable_ … belongings.”

“Right, can do, sir. It’ll be taken care of by the end of this week. This seem like a fair price to you?” Mr. Borgin asks, scribbling something down and passes the parchment back to Mr. Malfoy, who only glances at it before handing it right back with a single raised eyebrow.

“Those are some valuable items I’m selling, Mr. Borgin.”

“Uh, right, then. How about this?” He scribbles a new price which Mr. Malfoy seems to contemplate before smirking at, and Harry realizes where Draco learned it from.

“That seems a fair price. Please doing business with you, Mr. Borgin. Come, now, Draco, Harry,” Mr. Malfoy says, and they follow him back out the door.

Harry has what he thinks must be a million questions floating through his mind, although he knows he shouldn’t ask them. At least, not until they return to the manor.

They quickly find Narcissa along with the Weasleys and Grangers back in Diagon Alley, Draco’s mother looking severely uncomfortable and slightly out of place. As soon as Harry sees them, he breaks into a run, crashing into his friends and hugging them.

“Hermione! Ron!” he exclaims as the hug him back.

Draco scoffs begins him. “You didn’t greet me like that. I only bloody _rescued you_.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I don’t know, must have been the shock,” he says.

“Yeah, sure. Blame it on the shock,” Draco says, rolling his eyes right back and sticking his tongue out.

The group splits up, Fred and George getting strict instructions from Mrs. Weasley to stay away from Knockturn Alley, and Harry, Draco, Ron, and Hermione all go off together to shop for their school supplies.

An hour later, the group reconvenes in front of _Flourish and Blotts_ to buy their school books, although it seems they weren’t the only ones with this in mind as there is already a particularly large crowd gathered around the bookshop. Harry realizes the reason for this when he sees a sign propped up outside the door which he promptly points to after nudging his friends to get their attention.

_GILDEROY LOCKHART_

_will be signing copies of his autobiography_

_MAGICAL ME_

_today 12:30 – 4:30 pm_

“Rotten luck,” Ron says, grimacing.

“Oh, what are you talking about, Ronald? We’ll get to meet him! His books take up almost our entire booklist this year!” Hermione squeals.

Draco, Harry, and Ron all exchange apprehensive and disgusted looks.

Somehow, their entire group ends up at the front of the crowd, so when Gilderoy Lockhart comes sauntering out and seats himself at the table set out for him, they have a direct view to his exaggerated winks and obnoxious smiles showing off dazzlingly white teeth.

A rather short man pushes his way throw the crowd then, stepping on Ron’s foot in the process, and announcing “Out of the way, this is for the _Daily Prophet_.”

“Big deal,” Ron groans, rubbing his foot, but Lockhart hears him in the silence and looks up.

He sees Ron. And then he sees Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y’all, how’ve you been?
> 
> This chapter is almost twice as long as the previous two, which I’m happy about as they were rather short chapter compared to what I had in book 1. This chapter is more like the average chapter length, though, so I’m quite happy with what I have.
> 
> I don’t really have much to say today other than I hope you’re doing well and that you enjoyed this chapter! Please leave comments down below for me to read and reply to! I love reading them and I reply to them all. Also, please leave kudos, I appreciate everyone who does, and don’t forget to subscribe to be notified when I post the next chapter!
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> -2MusicLover2


	4. To The Burrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn’t reread chapter 3 after I edited it, this chapter starts with the scene I cut off from the end of chapter 3.

“My, my…” Lockhart says. “It _can’t_ be Harry Potter?”

Harry grimaces and makes to hide himself behind his friends, but he’s too late. Lockhart dives forward and snatches onto the front of Harry’s robes, dragging him back to the table.

“Smile, Harry,” he says, doing just that. “Together, you and I will make the front page.”

Harry sighs, refusing to smile and instead giving only a sneer, which he sees his friends taking great joy in.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Lockhart says once the insufferable flash of the camera has finally stopped. Harry makes to move away, but Lockhart only tightens his grip around Harry’s shoulders. “When young Harry here entered this fine establishment, he merely wished for an autographed copy of my biography and to buy his school supplies. Little did he know that he would be leaving with the _entirety_ of my collection… free of charge.”

The crowd gasps and more cameras flash as a heavy stacks of books is dropped into Harry’s arms.

“Oh, yes. Perhaps, with these, Harry can end up as great a wizard as I, but for now, he will be of lesser fame,” Lockhart says, and Harry’s scowl deepens.

It’s not that he’s offended about someone claiming they are more famous than he is. This man just really rubs him the wrong way and his claims only worsen Harry’s opinion of him.

Lockhart goes on talking, eventually becoming distracted enough that Harry manages to slip away. Narcissa quickly takes his books from him and shrinks them to fit into a bag with the rest of his and Draco’s purchases from the day, and Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco quickly retreat to the back of the crowd. Fred and George quickly join them to laugh at Harry a bit.

“Yeah, well, I got to go down Knockturn Alley,” Harry says in retaliation, knowing how badly the twins wanted to explore there.

“Did you really?” George asks.

“What was it like?” Fred asks.

Harry shrugs. “Like an alley.”

Draco laughs at this and Fred and George look dejected.

“What’s wrong, boys?” Mr. Weasley asks as the rest of their rather large group starts to join them.

“Harry got to go down Knockturn Alley, why can’t we?” Fred whines.

“Because your mother said ‘no,’” Mr. Weasley replies.

“I said no to what?” Mrs. Weasley asks, her voice stern and slightly impatient.

Mr. Weasley shoots a warning look at his sons, but they don’t pay attention to it.

“Knockturn Alley,” Fred says.

“Harry got to go,” says George.

Mrs. Weasley turns her furious gaze on Mr. Malfoy and his wife. “You let Harry go down Knockturn Alley?” she practically screams, and Harry flinches. “That is no place for a young boy!”

“I don’t believe it is your place to decide that, Molly. Besides, he never left Draco’s or my side. Draco has been with me plenty of times and knows exactly how to behave. Harry was in good care,” Mr. Malfoy says, his face just as expressionless as ever.

“What would his aunt and uncle think?” Molly demands. “What would his parents think?”

“His aunt and uncle couldn’t care less where he goes; they were all to happy to have him stay with us for the summer and the only thing they said to make me think otherwise was that they’d be losing a servant,” Mr. Malfoy states.

“And I can assure you that if Harry’s parents had been able to raise him, he would have been down Knockturn Alley far sooner,” Narcissa adds. “Harry’s father and my cousin were down there practically every other day causing trouble.”

Mrs. Weasley fumes. “I think Harry should spend the rest of the summer with us.”

“I think that’s up to Harry to decide,” Narcissa replies, stroking a gentle hand through Harry’s unruly hair.

“Uh…” Harry says when they all turn on him, looking for an answer. “I’m… I’m having a good time with the Malfoys.” He shifts uncomfortably.

“You can do whatever you want, darling,” Narcissa says, giving him a friendly smile.

“Can I stay with the Malfoys for the rest of this week? Then I can spend the last week with you, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry decides.

“Oh, alright. That seems reasonable,” Mrs. Weasley says after a moment of contemplation.

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry says.

They all make their way back to the Leaky Cauldron, where the Weasleys all disappear in a swirl of green flames in the fireplace, the Grangers say goodbye before they walk out the front door to drive home, and Harry and the Malfoys disapparate to Malfoy Manor.

~*~

The next week at the manor is just as enjoyable as the rest of Harry’s summer had been. He and Draco spend the mornings playing Quidditch, racing each other to catch the snitch, until lunch time when they go to Abraxas’s cabin to sit on his front porch with him as they eat. They play a couple more Seeker’s games before heading inside to help Narcissa prepare dinner, and enjoys the little routine they have made for themselves.

But then the week is over and Harry and Draco spend their last morning packing Harry’s school stuff rather than playing Quidditch, and then they side-along apparate with Narcissa to the Weasleys’ house instead of eating lunch with Abraxas. Harry isn’t upset to be going to the Weasleys’, on the contrary he’s actually quite excited. He is upset, however, that he has to keep these two parts of his life separate when he’s not at Hogwarts. He quickly finds himself anticipating going back to school where he can talk to and be with all of his friends at the same time without worrying about anyone’s reputation being ruined or safety being jeopardized.

The Weasleys’ house, which Harry soon finds out is called ‘The Burrow’ is _very_ different from Malloy Manor. Where life at the manor is organized, life at the Burrow is chaotic. Where life at the manor is regal and other-worldly, life at the Burrow is simplified and down-to-earth.

He doesn’t have his own room at the Burrow, like he does at the manor. Instead, he stays in Ron’s room with him, on a chair that Mrs. Weasley has transfigured into a bed and shoved against the bright orange wall plastered in Chudley Cannons posters.

Rather than having to wait until Mr. Weasley gives everyone the okay to eat at every meal, they all just start digging in and it takes Harry a few meals to forget—or, at least, force himself to disobey for the time being—the traditional manners that had been instilled in him by the Dursleys and continued at the Slytherin table at Hogwarts and at Malfoy Manor.

Of course, they both have their similarities as well as their differences. Both can be loud at times, and Harry feels loved and cared for at both.

His days are still spent playing Quidditch, although these games are two-on-two, with Fred, George, and Ron. Harry quickly decides he much prefers catching the snitch over trying to score point with the quaffle. He does a fair job of it, managing to score about two-thirds of the shots he attempts to make, but it just doesn’t feel the same to him, and throwing the quaffle feels awkward.

It takes Harry two days to decide that comparing the Burrow and Malfoy Manor is useless. He’ll never be able to decide which one he prefers, and he doesn’t think he really _wants_ to. They both have good things and bad things and they’re too different yet also too similar to truly compare them and it doesn’t really matter anyways because he enjoys them both.

“Hey, Harry, could you pass the salt, please and thank you?” Ron asks him at dinner the night before their return to Hogwarts, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Uh, yeah, here,” Harry says, doing as he was asked.

“What were you thinking about, Harry?” George asks him. “Seemed a little deep in though there.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asks in lieu of an answer.

“Ron only asked you to pass the salt about three times before he got an answer out of you,” Fred says with a chuckle.

“Oh,” says Harry. “I was just thinking about Hogwarts. I’m excited to go back.”

“Do you all have everything packed?” Mrs. Weasley asks them. “We have to get up early in the morning in order for everyone to be on time.”

A chorus of ‘yes’s resounds around the table.

“Good. Now, after dinner I want you all straight up to bed. Get to sleep early so you’re not all inclined to have a good lie in,” Mrs. Weasley states, giving Fred and George a stern look.

“What’s that look for, Mum?” George asks.

“Yeah, Ron’s the one who nearly made us late last year!” Fred says, and Harry laughs.

“Oh, alright. Just as long as we’re not late this year.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y’all!
> 
> So this chapter is definitely the shortest one I’ve written for this series, but all upcoming chapters will be much longer and more like the length of the chapters in book 1. To do this, however, I am sad to say that I will no longer be able to post three chapters a week. Writing this many chapters in a week made me feel rushed to complete them, resulting in them being much shorter, and I didn’t always feel like what I was posting was my best work. So, I will be posting on new chapters every Wednesday, starting next week. It could be just one chapter every Wednesday, or if I have more finished, then it could be more. Whatever chapters I have completed every Wednesday will be what I post, so make sure you subscribe to get notifications when I do update this work.
> 
> With this, I am also hoping to have more time to work on other projects. One big one, is writing music, which I have sadly been neglecting severely as of late. I’ll also be working more on my original story, which you can find on fictionpress, under the same username I have here (2MusicLover2) if you’re interested, and I also have a few ideas for other fics that I plan on starting soon.
> 
> Well, that’s all for now. Please make sure to leave kudos and comments, I reply to every comment. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy!  
> -2MusicLover2


	5. Making an Entrance

Despite Mrs. Weasley’s many attempts to get them all to Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters on time, they still arrive there only two minutes before the train is set to leave, all thanks to several trips back to the house for forgotten belongings and Mr. Weasley’s momentary trouble with getting his car, a Ford Anglia, to start.

“Hurry up, everyone, the train’ll be leaving shortly! Fred, George, Percy, you first! Now, come on, Ginny, your dad and I will go along with you!” Mrs. Weasley urges, and then it’s just Harry and Ron, quickly racing towards the brick wall concealing the platform to the Hogwarts Express.

Rather than magically basing through the barrier, however, they crash into it, sending their luggage flying and attracting a rather large amount of unwanted attention, passerby’s muttering about animal cruelty as Hedwig hoots indignantly in her cage.

“Oi! What’d you go and crash into that for?” a station attendant asks them, looking them over with an air of annoyance.

“Sorry, list control of the trolley,” Harry grits out through his teeth as he winces in pain and rubs his side, cautiously and carefully standing back up and attempting to get all of his luggage back onto the trolley.

“‘Lost control of the trolley,’” the attendant mutters as he turns to walk away and help some family find their train.

Ron’s eyes are wide as he slaps his hand against the barrier, nothing happening but the sound of skin hitting stone. “It’s blocked!” he says, voice panicky, and with good reason.

“But… that means…” Harry looks at the clock on the wall. 11:01. “We’ve missed the train!” he groans. “Oh, what’re we going to do now?”

“Harry,” Ron says, swallowing nervously. “If we can’t get through… what if that means Mum and Dad can’t get back? What if we’re stuck here?”

Harry, too, has to swallow down the bile rising in his throat as he attempts to remain calm. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait by the car,” he says, seeing no other options, but as soon as he says it, Ron’s face alights with relief as he seems to have an idea. “What? What have you thought of, then?”

“The car!” Ron exclaims rather loudly, drawing a bit more attention to themselves before he looks sheepish and lowers his voice again. “Dad enchanted it to make it fly! We can just follow the train and fly to Hogwarts!”

Harry grins. “It’s brilliant!”

So, they quickly go back out to the car park and pack all of their luggage back inside before climbing into the car themselves, Ron in the driver’s seat and Harry sliding into the passenger’s seat next to him. With a bit of careful and terrifying maneuvering, they manage to get the car pulled out of the parking space and driving through the rows of cars. Ron hits the invisibility booster, turning the car and it’s contents completely invisible, before he gets it to lift off the ground, Harry clutching his seat in excitement and terror.

“Brilliant!” he exclaims again as they pass above the streets of London, although when he looks down, he sees a number of Muggles looking right back up at him, squinting and blocking the sun with their hands to better see, and pointing right at the car. “Ron. Ron, the Muggles are noticing. I don’t think we’re invisible.”

“I pressed it, though,” Ron says, jamming the invisibility booster again, but more Muggles keeps noticing.

“Ron, it’s still not working. I think we better fly higher, so they can’t see us. Maybe above the clouds.”

“Oh, alright,” says Ron, and he obediently brings the car up higher, into the clouds which instantly start misting up the windows, even though he keeps pressing on the invisibility booster. “It must be faulty,” he says when he finally gives it up.”

After a few minutes, Harry suggests dipping down below the clouds to make sure they are still on the right coarse, and they see the train tracks and city below them, but no train.

“I don’t see the train yet. Perhaps we should just check back down every half hour or so to make sure we can still see the tracks?” Harry suggests.

“Good idea,” Ron nods, and he steers them back up, this time above the clouds so it looks almost as if they are driving on cotton.

They continue on like that, flying above the clouds and occasionally dipping back below to make sure they are still on course. It doesn’t take long before they find the train, and they stay mostly even with it, one or the other occasionally getting slightly ahead only to be caught up to half an hour later.

It’s rather enjoyable, up in the sky with Ron, talking and laughing and just enjoying themselves in general, except the heat from the sun beating directly into the car becomes stifling and the sweets they had opened up as snacks have all either overheated or melted.

“Do you think we can fly below the clouds for a bit? It’s way too hot,” Ron says as he pulls at his shirt which is sticking to him with his sweat.

“I don’t think there’s any Muggles or anything below us, so we should be good,” Harry replies, and, sure enough, they are flying above rolling hills and fields when they dip below the clouds.

Before long, the sun starts setting, and they use the cover of night at an excuse to remain below the clouds to afraid of losing the train in the dark. Just as the train starts slowing down below them, getting ready to pull into Hogsmeade Station, the car starts sputtering.

“It must be getting tired, never been this far before,” Ron says. “Come on, just a little further. I know you can make it.”

They do make it, the car managing to keep them in the air with relative ease until they are above the grounds, falling and screaming, before finally crashing into a tree.

Both Harry and Ron sit as still as possible, staring at each other with wide eyes, the car perched way up in the tree’s branches. Suddenly, the car shakes and Ron screams as Harry grips the dashboard in front of him. Another shake and something crashing onto the hood of the car makes Harry realize what’s happening.

“The bloody tree’s trying to kill us!” he shouts.

They start screaming again, bracing themselves in their seats as branches continually beat against the car, shaking it loose from the tree until it ultimately falls free. By some miracle, the car lands right side up and roars to life, driving away just far enough that the tree can no longer reach them.

Harry throws himself against his door, tumbling out in a ball and retrieving his luggage and Hedwig as quickly as he can and seeing Ron doing the same. As soon as everything is out of the car, it comes alive again and drives away, into the Forbidden Forest.

“Oh, Mum’s going to kill me,” Ron groans, staring after the damaged Ford Anglia and holding his wand which he had snapped in half while attempting to get the car to stop falling before they hit the tree.

“You better hope that’s the worst thing that happens to you,” comes a voice from behind the boys that is all too familiar. Sure enough, when they turn around they are greeted with the sneering face of Professor Snape, the Potions professor and Head of Slytherin House who has something against Harry and will do just about anything to get Harry in trouble. “Come with me and leave your luggage. Mr. Filch will get it ready for you to take the train back home.”

Harry’s heart feels like it drops into his stomach. He doesn’t want to go home. Uncle Vernon probably wouldn’t even let him. Of course, he could stay with either the Weasleys or the Malfoys, but he doesn’t really find the thought of staying in the Wizarding World without being able to do any magic himself very pleasing.

Feeling very much like his life is over, Harry trudges begins Snape up to the castle, past the Great Hall full of students feasting and enjoying their first night back with their friends, and down into the dungeons, where Snape’s office is located.

Snape’s office is just as you would expect a dungeon room to look. The dark grey stone walls are cold and appear almost slimy, and Harry shivers as he steps inside. The walls are covered in shelves full of jars of different potions ingredients, some are powders while others appear to be tiny creatures floating in some kind of liquid. Snape points his wand at the fireplace behind his desk and flames burst to life inside it before he grips the back of his chair and glares at Harry and Ron.

“Sit,” he says coldly, nodding his head at the two chairs in front of his desk. Harry and Ron waste no time in obeying. “So, the train isn’t good enough for the great Harry Potter and his little sidekick Weasley, is it? Wanted to arrive with a _bang_ , did we boys?”

“No, sir, it was the barrier at King’s Cross, it—”

“Silence! What have you done with the car?”

Harry gulps and exchanges a fearful look with Ron.

“It drove off, sir,” he mutters, and he’s not sure if Snape hears him, but the professor moves on anyways, pulling out today’s issue of the _Daily Prophet_.

“You were seen,” Snape declares, then flourishes the paper and starts to read. “‘ _Flying Ford Anglia mystifies Muggles. Two Muggles in London, convinced they saw an old car flying over the post office tower… at noon in Norfolk, Mrs. Hetty Bayliss, while hanging out her washing… Mr. Angus Fleet, of Peebles, reported to police_ ’… Six or seven Muggles in all. I believe _your_ father, Mr. Weasley, works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office?”

Ron nods his head solemnly.

“Dear, dear… his own son…”

“Are you going to expel us, sir?” Harry asks, wanting this conversation to be over with so he can figure out where to go.

“As much as I would like to,” Snape says, “Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall must aid me in that decision. If it were solely up to me, however, you would be leaving on the train _tonight_. You have flouted the Decree for Underage Wizardry, in the process breaking the Statute of Secrecy and damaging a valuable tree in the school’s grounds.”

“To be fair, sir, I think that tree did more damage to us,” Harry says.

“Silence!” Snape shouts, and Harry purses his lips, hanging his head. “Now, both of you must stay here while I retrieve Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall to determine your fate.”

He leaves his office with a swish of his cloak and Ron and Harry are left alone to stare at their shoes, neither of them really wanting to look up. About ten minutes late, Snape, Dumbledore, and McGonagall all enter the office with disappointed faces.

“Explain,” McGonagall demands.

“You see, professors,” Ron says. “What happened was that when we got to King’s Cross, the rest of my family went through the barrier first, so Harry and I were the last ones, but when we got up to the barrier, we just crashed into it! It wouldn’t let us through. So, we didn’t really have any other choice, as the train was leaving at that moment and we didn’t think Mum and Dad could get back, because, you know, it was just a solid wall. And we had taken Dad’s car to the station, and I knew it was bewitched to fly, so we thought we could just do that. We had no choice, really.”

For several long moments, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape all just stand there staring at them.

“I believe _you_ , Harry, have an owl? Why didn’t you send us a letter?” McGonagall asks eventually.

“I didn’t think…” Harry says.

“Clearly,” McGonagall replies.

Dumbledore continues to stare at them, and Harry is just about to give in and start heading for the train home, when Dumbledore finally speaks.

“I do not wish for you to be expelled,” he says, and Snape looks about to protest but Dumbledore holds up a hand, effectively silencing him. “You will still be punished, however, and that punishment shall be decided by your heads of house.”

Harry isn’t quite sure if he should thank Dumbledore or not, but the headmaster leaves before he can do anything.

“You shall receive an owl with the details of your punishment by the end of this week,” McGonagall says, Snape standing behind her in a stony silence.

“Professor, I was hoping to see the Sorting, or, at least, my sister’s Sorting,” Ron says before anyone can say anything further.

McGonagall almost seems to smile at him. Almost. “The Sorting is finished. Your sister is also in Gryffindor.”

Ron grins for a second before he remembers they just got in trouble.

“For the rest of this evening, please head back to your dormitories. I will have the house elves send something to you for dinner,” McGonagall says, then she ushers them out of Snape’s office, no doubt so that the two of them can decide on a fitting punishment.

“Well, we got out of that a little easier than I would’ve thought,” Harry says, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized had been lodged in his throat.

“For now,” Ron mutters. “We’ve still got Snape and McGonagall’s punishment to worry about.”

Harry groans. “A punishment from the two of them combined might be worse than if we were to get expelled. She sent us into the forest last year, remember?”

“Oh, I forgot about that,” Ron says.

“Yeah, ‘cause you were lucky enough to get bit by Norbert instead,” Harry replies.

They arrive at the point where they must part ways and they say their good nights, heading off into their common rooms and worrying about what sort of punishment McGonagall and Snape might come up with.

Harry enters his dormitory—the same one he shared with Blaise Zabini, Gregory Goyle, Vincent Crabbe, Theodore Nott, and Draco last year, now with a plaque reading ‘Second Years’ to replace the old ‘First Years’ one—and finds a platter of sandwiches sitting on his bed. He sits down on his bed and shuts the curtains around him, starting to eat, only managing to finish one sandwich before he is interrupted.

“You absolute bloody wanker!” Draco shouts, ripping open the curtains on Harry’s bed and promptly shoving him over to sit down beside him, and if it wasn’t for the grin lighting up his face and the gleeful edge to his voice, Harry might have been scared for his life. “I can’t believe you _flew_ in a _magical car_ to school _without_ me!”

“The barrier wouldn’t let us through, we didn’t think we had any other choice,” Harry says. “Trust me, if we could’ve gotten through, I would’ve just rode the train. Snape and McGonagall are coming up with punishments as we speak.”

“Ooh, tough luck, mate,” Draco says with a grimace as the rest of the Slytherin boys in their year crowd onto Harry’s bed as well. “You’d be better off getting expelled.”

“That’s what I said!” Harry groans.

“Oh, Draco, did you tell him the news?” Blaise asks, abruptly changing the topic.

“Not yet. Didn’t get a chance, did I?” Draco replies.

“What news?” Harry asks.

Blaise leans forward and whispers almost conspiratorially, “The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is Gilderoy Lockhart.”

Harry guffaws. “Really? _Him_? Ugh, I can’t stand him!”

“Coming from someone who’s met him _once_ ,” Blaise says. “Mum was thinking about him for her next. Try having dinner with the bloke.”

“Really? _Him_?” Draco asks in a perfect imitation of Harry. “I thought she had better standards than _that_.”

“Yes, well. I got lucky. Turns out she _does_ have better standards; it only took _four_ dinners for her to realize it. She thought he had power, but he’s just a smarmy git with a nice smile. Those are memories I’ll unfortunately never be able to erase,” Blaise says with a shake of his head.

“Unfortunate, indeed,” Draco says.

~*~

Harry wakes up the next morning by falling off of his bed, which wakes up the rest of the boys as well. It turns out they had all fallen asleep before any of them moved to their own beds, and there was definitely not enough room for all six boys to sleep on one bed.

“You okay?” Draco asks, peeking his head of the edge of the bed to stare down at Harry.

“Not really,” Harry says as he sits up. “Okay, we are _never_ doing that again.”

Blaise laughs. “Not like we really _intended_ for it to happen, but I am inclined to agree. _Never again_.”

They trudge through getting ready, taking turns in the en suite bathroom to wash up, and then they walk into the common room together to cheers.

Well, it’s only one person cheering, but she’s cheering loudly enough that Harry thinks it’s an entire crowd before he sees her.

“Good job Harry!” Holly Parkinson shouts. “Oh, look at him, all grown up and flying himself to school! I’ve taught you so well!”

Harry sucks his head down at all of the attention Holly is attracting to him. “I wouldn’t say that. It was a stupid idea really. Got me in trouble, didn’t it?”

Holly rolls her eyes at him. “It’s the stupid ideas that lead to genius revelations,” she says, ruffling his hair, causing it to stick up even more. “And who cares about a bit of trouble. I’ve been in loads of trouble, and look where it’s gotten me!” She points to her chest where a little badge is pinned.

“ _You’ve_ been made a prefect?” Harry asks in disbelief. “Who made that decision?”

“I know, right?” says Pansy, walking into the common room from the girls’ dormitories. “I’ve been asking myself the same question.”

“Dear old Professor Snape did, of course,” Holly says. “You can’t really blame him, though. Have you met any of the other fifth year girls?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Draco says.

“Yes, well, consider yourself lucky,” Holly says. “Come on, I’ll walk you all to breakfast. Keep people out of the way of the Great Harry Potter.”

Harry grimaces. “Really, Holly. All I did was take a car to school because the barrier at the station wouldn’t let Ron and I through.”

“Harry the Humble coming through, everyone!” Holly exclaims as she leads the group through the dungeons to the Great Hall.

Harry gives up on getting her to stop, instead just resolving to let her have her fun. Holly finally leaves them once they arrive at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, heading over to a group of first years to no doubt terrorize them just as she had done to Harry and his friends last year.

Shortly after Snape comes around with their schedules, Hermione and Ron come over from the Gryffindor table having just received their own from McGonagall. Before a conversation can start up with them, however, the post arrives in a flurry of owls fluttering into the Great Hall and dropping letters and packages onto the tables.

Draco receives his weekly package of sweets from Narcissa, along with it two letters, one addressed to him and the other to Harry, who opens it feeling rather guilty.

_Harry,_

_I do not wish to make you feel bad about what happened. But you had me very worried. Next time, please, send a letter to someone to let them know what is going on before you make any hasty decisions._

_I’m not mad._

_Love,_

_Narcissa_

Harry has a hard time _not_ feeling bad, despite Narcissa’s wishes. He made her worry, and everyone was right: it was a very poor choice he and Ron made.

His thoughts are cut off by a scream as Ron’s family owl crashes into the table, knocking over a jug of milk. Attached to its leg is a bright red envelope addressed to Ron.

“Nooo,” Ron groans, pulling off the letter after which the owl twists around on the table and takes off again. “A howler.”

“Oh no,” Pansy says, no doubt remembering the one she had received the year before. “Quick, see if you can make it someplace with less people.”

Ron nods and jumps up from the table, the letter already smoking as he starts running. The smoke gets heavier and Harry watches as Ron shrieks and rips the letter open in the doorway between the Great Hall and the Entrance Hall, Mrs. Weasley’s voice instantly ringing through the castle’s walls.

“RONALD BILLIUS WEASLEY, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING STEALING THE CAR? I WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT ‘TIL I GET HOLD OF YOU. I DON’T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT HAD GONE. WHEN WE RECEIVED THE LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME. WE DIDN’T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS. YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED. I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED. YOUR FATHER’S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK. IT’S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE’LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME.”

With that, the red envelope burst into flames.

Ron, ashamed, walks back over to the Slytherin table and slumps down between Harry and Hermione.

“Why couldn’t you have received a howler too?” he asks Harry, and Draco shakes his head.

“Mum never gets angry enough for howlers it’s kind of scary, actually. Sometimes I’d almost prefer a howler,” Draco says, a contemplative look on his face.

“Come on, she’s gotta be angry enough deep down to create a howler when she’s writing sometimes,” Pansy says skeptically.

“Nope. I don’t think she could even make one if she wanted,” Draco says.

“Wait, what do you mean? Wouldn’t she have to choose to make one?” Harry asks.

“No,” Draco answers. “Howlers are a manifestation of the anger of the witch or wizard who wrote it. If you’re angry enough while writing a letter, the letter will turn into a howler. It’s part of why they explode if you don’t open them soon enough. It takes time and lots of anger to create a howler. The angrier you are, the quicker it’ll become a howler.”

“Oh,” Harry says. “Well, that’s good to know, I guess.”

“Oi, stop staring!” Blaise says suddenly to someone over Harry’s shoulder, and Harry turns to see practically every head in the Great Hall turning away from where they were staring at Ron.

“They’ll forget eventually, Ron,” Harry says.

“Not likely,” Ron mumbles. “Come on, Hermione. We’ve got Transfiguration.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hilo!
> 
> How are you doing? I’m starting to go a little crazy from all this time I’m spending inside, but I’ve been doing a lot of writing lately, so that’s one good thing.
> 
> What did you think of this chapter? I kind of just thought of that headcanon about howlers as I was writing and thought, “hey, why not?” and added it in. Also, Holly’s a prefect! Do you think she’ll make a good prefect or not? Let me know in the comments.
> 
> As always, kudos are always appreciated, and I reply to all comments. Make sure to subscribe to get notified when the next chapter is posted! Updates are on Wednesdays, and however many chapters I have completed will be posted, so it might not just be one chapter.
> 
> Thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoyed!  
> -2MusicLover2


	6. Celebrity Status

The second year Slytherins have a break first thing that morning, and they spend it on the comfortable armchairs of the Slytherin common room as Harry writes a letter in reply to Narcissa, apologizing for worrying her.

All too soon, it’s time to pack up and head to Defense Against the Dark Arts, where they will have to endure their first class with Lockhart.

Upon entering the classroom to see Lockhart grinning at them all from his desk at the very front, the Slytherins all scramble and fight over who gets to sit at the back of the room so as to avoid Lockhart as much as possible. Unfortunately, Harry loses this fight to Greg and Vince who both stick their tongues out gleefully at him and Draco who end up scowling as they take the last seats left: the ones closest to Lockhart’s desk.

“Welcome!” Lockhart grins at them all, not seeming to realize that none of them wish to be there with him. “Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts.” He steps around his desk and picks up one of Harry’s books, _Year with a Yeti_ , and points to the cover. “Me. Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five times winner of _Witch Weekly_ ’s Most-Charming-Smile Award—but I don’t talk about that. I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by _smiling_ at her.”

He punctuates the statement with a large smile, but not a single member of the class reacts, which he seems to get slightly flustered at.

“Well, I see you’ve all bought a complete set of my books—”

“They were all on the list, what did you expect?” Blaise mutters from the seat behind Harry, which causes him and Draco to snort in laughter.

Lockhart either doesn’t notice or ignores them. “I thought we’d start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about—just to check how well you’ve read them, how much you’ve taken in…”

He starts passing out the tests and then goes back to the front of class, saying “You have thirty minutes. Start—now!”

Harry looks down and reads the first question.

_What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favorite color?_

He looks back up at Lockhart and raises his eyebrows, then looks at Draco beside him, who looks just as disgusted as Harry. Glancing back up at Lockhart and seeing he is too busy fiddling with his hair in a handheld mirror, Harry turns around to look at Blaise.

“What’s the answer to number one?” Harry whispers.

“Why are you asking me?” Blaise whispers back.

Harry shrugs. “Your mother dated him. Figured you might’ve learnt some things about him.”

“I could answer every one of these questions correct in my sleep, doesn’t mean I’m going to. I’m answering every question wrong just to spite him,” Blaise says, furiously scribbling on his own parchment. “Make it up.”

Harry looks at Blaise a moment longer and glances down to see Blaise’s answer to number three— _What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart’s greatest achievement to date?_ —is _Somehow managing time stay alive despite not knowing the slightest thing about defensive magic or having any common sense in general_.

“Bit petty, are we, Blaise?” Harry asks with a smirk.

“Shut up and do your own test,” Blaise replies.

Half an hour later, Lockhart announces that their time is up and he comes around to collect their tests then rifles through them at the front of the class.

“How disappointing… not one of you got a single question right. Mister Zabini, I would have at least expected you to know the answers,” Lockhart admonishes, and Blaise scowls at him. “No matter… time to get to the actual business…” Lockhart reaches behind his desk and pulls up a covered cage. “As your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, it is my duty to prepare you for the threats out there in the Wizarding World. You may, in fact, find yourself facing your worst fears in this room. But don’t worry, I assure you that no harm will come to you while you are in my care—so long as you remain calm.”

Then, with a flourish, Lockhart pulls the cover off the cage, which instantly starts rattling as the small, electric blue creatures inside rattle the bars and chatter away in their squealing voices.

Draco raises a single eyebrow at them, but no one has any other reactions.

“Very good, very good. I’m impressed you’ve managed not to scream,” Lockhart says, his gaze traveling over each one of the Slytherins’ bored expressions and smiling at them. “Can anyone tell me what these are?”

“Shouldn’t you know what they are, Professor?” Blaise drawls, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

Lockhart stumbles over his words. “Well, er, I _do_ know, but, uh, I just want to make sure that _you_ know, too. Teaching and… all that, yes?”

Draco’s other eyebrow shoots up to join the first in a look of incredulousness.

“So, can, we, can anyone indenting these creatures?” Lockhart asks again, clearly having lost his footing with this class.

After a long moment of silence, Pansy rolls her eyes and says “Cornish pixies.”

“Very good! Cornish pixies, indeed,” Lockhart says. “ _Freshly caught_ Cornish pixies. Devilish little blight era, they are. Can cause mayhem in a matter of seconds.”

“I’m terrified,” Millicent Bulstrode says, her voice flat and lacking any sign of her supposed terror.

Lockhart opens his mouth to say something, but then the bell sounds, dismissing them all to head to their next class: Potions with the Gryffindors.

“Ah, unfortunately our time is up. Uh, before you leave, Harry, I would like to talk with you,” Lockhart says as they all gather their things, and Harry just narrowly escaped out the door before Lockhart calls him back.

“Good luck,” Draco says, patting him on the shoulder in sympathy. “I’ll try to make to keep Snape from taking any points, but I can’t make any promises.”

Harry gives Draco an empty half-smile and turns back around to face Lockhart, the classroom emptying out with sympathetic glances thrown Harry’s way as they pass.

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” Lockhart says once it’s just the two of them. “I should have known better. Once I’d heard I knew it was my fault and could’ve kicked myself.”

Harry looks at Lockhart, completely and utterly confused, and is about to ask what Lockhart is talk about when the professor goes on.

“Don’t know if I’ve ever been more shocked! Flying a car to Hogwarts… ‘course, I knew at once why you’d done it—stood out by a mile, you did! Harry, Harry, _Harry_.

“Gave you a taste for publicity, didn’t I? Gave you the _bug_. I helped you get onto the front page of that paper and you just couldn’t wait to do it again,” Lockhart says.

Harry momentarily considers protesting, but then he figures it would be no use. It seems that once Lockhart gets an idea into his thick skull it just won’t come out.

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” Lockhart continues, and Harry glances out the door to see the first year Slytherins queuing outside of the door, waiting to be let in for their class. “ _I understand_. Natural to want a bit more once you’ve had that first taste—and I blame myself for…”

Harry looks over Lockhart’s shoulder at the cage of Cornish pixies, still rattling away behind the bars, and he zones out as he watches them.

“…more of a nobody!” Harry zones back in to hear Lockhart saying. “I mean, a few people have heard of you, haven’t they?” Harry scoffs, but Lockhart ignores him. “All that business with He Who Must Not Be Named! I know, I know, it’s not quite as good as winning _Witch Weekly_ ’s Most-Charming-Smile Award five times in a row, as I have—but it’s a _start_ , Harry, it’s a _start_.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Yes, I only stopped Voldemort when I was an infant and then again last year at the age of eleven, but that is nothing compared to what you and your _charming_ smile have done.”

Lockhart winks at Harry. “Exactly, Harry, and it’s going to take some time before you can claim the same amount of celebrity status as I, but just know that these things cannot be rushed.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Harry says.

“Very good. Now, I suspect Snape is missing you in his class, so how about you hurry on down to the dungeons—I won’t keep you any longer.”

“Thank you ever so much for your advice, Professor,” Harry says with one last false smile before he turns around and walks out of the classroom, his smile instantly falling into a scowl.

When Harry enters the Potions classroom, the lesson is already half-over and everyone is working on brewing their potions.

“Instructions are on the board, Potter, I expect a finished potion by the end of class. I’m sure Draco can catch you up,” Snape says by way of greeting, for which Harry is thankful. Despite the fact that Snape tends to favor students in Slytherin house, he has never really liked Harry, and the feeling was mutual. Harry is sure Draco managed to say something to get Snape to have such a mild reaction to Harry’s extreme lateness.

“How’d you do it?” Harry mutters to Draco as he sets his bag down next to Draco at their table with Hermione and Ron.

Draco shrugs and drops something in his cauldron then stirs it some more. “All I said was that you might be late because of Lockhart and he didn’t even let me finish, just scowled and said ‘of course’ then walked away to start class.”

“Huh. He must not like Lockhart even more than he doesn’t like me,” Harry says, shocked.

“I don’t understand what you all have against him. He’s brilliant. Have you read his books? Some of the things he’s done…” Hermione says dreamily, and Ron, Draco, and Harry all look at her quizzically.

“Did you hit your head over the summer or…?” Draco asks.

“No, I didn’t hit my head,” Hermione says. “I am still functioning the same as always. He really isn’t that bad, I don’t know what you all have against him. Sure, he might be a little fame-crazy, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s done some amazing things.”

Harry shakes his head. “Okay, then. So, uh, what am I doing here?”

“First attempt at a Hair-Raising Solution,” Draco says, still looking like he is questioning Hermione’s sanity. “Fill your cauldron halfway with water and bring it to a boil. Hermione, are you sure you’re okay? I mean, you’ve never even met the bloke and you’ve never really been one to make judgments prior to meeting someone.”

“Yes, I’m positive!” Hermione says exasperatedly. “And I’m not making prior judgments, I’m just questioning if _you’ve_ made prior judgments.”

“What prior judgments did we make then? Start cutting that up into equal pieces, Harry, and make sure they’re _equal_.”

“I don’t know, but you all seem to have something against him for no reason whatsoever! He’s saved countless villages from monsters and Dark forces, but you’ve still managed to find something to hold against him and _for what reason_?” Hermione argues.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe—Harry, watch it, I said _halfway_ with water, not _all the way_ , you’re boiling over now!—maybe the fact that he is a complete hit who only cares about his looks and how many _Witch Weekly_ ’s Most-Charming-Smile Awards he’s gotten and he can’t teach a class to save his life?” Draco retorts. “There you go, much better, now add that in there and stir it counterclockwise with this.”

“Like I said, who cares if he’s a little narcissistic?” Hermione asks rhetorically, angrily dumping an ingredient in her cauldron. “It doesn’t change the fact that he is amazing at Defense magic and has _saved people_.”

Draco scowls at her across the table and then glances at Harry’s potion which is entirely the wrong color, and his eyes widen as he shoves something into Harry’s hands. “Merlin! Quick put this in before it explodes!”

Just as Harry drops it in, an echoing _bang_ resounds through the dungeon classroom. Luckily, it wasn’t Harry’s fault.

“I see you still have a knack for explosions, Finnegan,” Snape says standing ominously over Seamus Finnegan’s shoulder. “Five points from Gryffindor. Clean this up and start again, this time _following my instructions_.”

Harry looks at Draco and Hermione. “Could you two please stop arguing so Draco can properly help me with this instead of forcing me to end up like _that_?” he asks, indicating Finnegan’s soot covered face and robes.

Draco nods. “But we’ll finish this at lunch and then I’ll get Blaise to back me up—his mum and Lockhart were briefly together so he can explain to you the true pain of having to be in a room with him.”

Hermione rolls her eyes but stays silent.

With Draco’s help, Harry manages to brew a potion closely resembling a Hair-Raising Solution just in time to turn in to Snape at the end of class. Snape makes no comment on it, which Harry takes as a win.

Harry and Draco split off from Ron and Hermione to put their bags in their dormitories before lunch, then they meet up again at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, Draco dragging Blaise along behind him by the sleeve of his robes.

“Go on, Blaise,” Draco says when they are all seated around the table, Blaise looking slightly disgruntled to be there. “Tell Hermione all about Lockhart and why we don’t like him.”

Blaise takes in a deep breath, whether to spout off a long-winded explanation without breath or because he is annoyed by Draco, Harry will never know, as they are interrupted by a young, mousy-looking boy clutching a Muggle camera, his face bright red.

“Harry Potter?” the boy asks, and Harry gives a slow, confused nod of his head. “I—I’m Colin Creevey. I’m in Gryffindor. D’you—would it be all right if—can I have a picture?”

Harry blinks, completely taken aback by the boy’s stammered out question. “A picture?” he asks.

“Yeah. I want to prove I’ve met you,” Colin says, stepping a little closer to Harry and nearly tripping over his robes. “I know all about you. Everyone’s told me. You know, about how you survived when You Know Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and how you’ve got a lightning scar on your forehead. One of the boys in my dormitory even told me that if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures’ll move! It’s _brilliant_ here, isn’t it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic ‘til I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad’s a milkman, he couldn’t believe it either, so I’m taking loads of pictures to send home to him, and it’ll be really good if I could have one of you. Maybe I could stand next to you and one of your friends could take it, and then you could sign it maybe?”

“Aw, you’re giving out signed photos, Harry? Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Draco teased with a smirk and Harry glares.

“Shut up,” he says, shoving Draco lightly, but Draco refuses to let this opportunity to tease Harry pass him by.

“Everyone line up!” he calls, standing up. “Harry Potter’s giving out _signed photos_!”

Holly is there in a matter of seconds, having climbed right over the tables in her way, receiving a number of glares and dirty looks in the process. “Harry James Potter!” Holly shouts as she’s jumping off of the top of the Ravenclaw table. “I can’t believe you’re giving out signed photos and never told me! I can take points away for that, you know!”

“I’m from your house, why would you take points from your own house?” Harry mutters. Then he looks up and sees that the commotion has attracted the attention of one Professor Gilderoy Lockhart. “Oh, now look what you’ve done,” he says to Draco, who scrunches his face up in disgust.

“What’s all this?” Lockhart asks as he joins the small crowd of people now surrounding Harry. “Who’s giving out signed photos?”

Harry attempts to hide himself, but it’s too late; Lockhart has seen him.

“Shouldn’t have asked…” Lockhart says. “How about a double portrait, then, and we’ll both sign it?”

Colin looks like Lockhart has just made his day. “I think that sound brilliant, Professor Lockhart, sir!”

Lockhart grins at Colin and then throws his arm around Harry’s shoulders, pulling him into his side as Colin takes a picture of them. Harry refuses to smile.

“Perfect! Off you all go, then. Run along,” Lockhart says to the crowd, and then, to Harry, he mutters “A word to the wise, Harry: I covered up for you back there. Since he photographed me, too, hopefully your school fellows won’t think you’re setting yourself up so much.”

Harry grimaces. “Uh huh. Sure. Thanks, Professor. Couldn’t have done it without you. Really got myself into trouble there.”

“Exactly, Harry,” Lockhart says, completely missing the sarcasm. “Now, then, you finish your lunch. Don’t let me catch you drawing more attention to yourself, either. You’ll have your chance at fame later, no need to try for it now. Maybe one day…”

Harry scowls at Lockhart’s back as he walks away to sit at the staff table.

“Do you see what we mean, Hermione?” Draco asks as Harry sits back down at the Gryffindor table. “Insufferable git, he is.”

“I still don’t see your point,” she replies.

~*~

Hermione does end up seeing their point a little better after the Gryffindors’ Defense lesson the next day.

“It was absolutely insane!” she rants as she piles potatoes onto her plate at dinner. “He’s a raving lunatic! Seamus and Dean laughed at the Cornish pixies so he just set them free on us and then couldn’t get them to stop wreaking havoc around the classroom! Ron and I ended up having to stop them all from tearing the room apart! Lucky I looked ahead in the book and was able to perform a Freezing Charm to get them all to stop! Honestly, how he managed to do everything in those books when he can’t handle a few pixies…”

“So you finally understand?” Draco asks excitedly. “You agree that he has no right to be teaching here and there’s no reason anyone in their right mind would like him?”

Hermione rolls her eyes. “I never said _that_ ,” she says. “I’m sure he just wanted us to have some hands on experience. I mean, he did _try_ to help us… and his books.”

“Can you really believe the books, though?” Ron asks.

“Why wouldn’t I believe the books?” asks Hermione in return. “What reason do I have to not believe those books?”

“So, you think he’s a fraud?” Harry ask, and Draco nods.

“Oh, I _know_ he’s a fraud. I just gotta prove it.”

Blaise shakes his head at him. “I’ve tried. He won’t admit anything. Mum even tried, towards the end. Now I think about it, maybe the whole relationship was just her trying to get him to admit it…”

“Why are you all so intent on this?” Hermione asks.

“Because, Hermione,” says Ron. “No one, and I mean _no one_ , could possibly have done all of the things he says he has. He has to be lying about it.”

“That’s gotta be our goal for this year: prove Lockhart is a fraud,” Draco says with a note of finality.

“Our goal for the year? I didn’t realize that was a thing we did,” Harry says.

“Well, I figure, last year we saved the Philosopher’s Stone from Volde-Squirrel, so we need something to occupy us this year. I say it’s this,” Draco says.

“Uh huh,” Harry says, not entirely convinced.

“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun! You hate Lockhart just as much as I do, you even have more reason to!” Draco says. “Whaddaya say?”

Harry contemplates for a second, looking at Hermione’s disapproving glare and then at Ron who shrugs. “Alright. Fine. This year we prove Lockhart is a fraud.

Little did a Harry know, this goal would soon be taken over by other, much more pressing matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> New chapter, yay! I really enjoyed writing this chapter, there was a lot of humor in it for me, but I want to know what you all thought of it, so let me know in the comments!
> 
> I’ve already got a pretty good start on the next chapter: 2,036 words. I’m thinking that this might mean two chapters next week :) We’ll just have to see, I guess.
> 
> In case you couldn’t tell by the fact that I called Quirrell ‘Squirrel’, I recently rewatched the AVPM series, so no, that was not a typo. I was also extremely tired when I finished this chapter and after finishing it, I proceeded to sleep for 12 hours—something I have never done in my life before. My average sleep time is 4-5 hours, so 12 was a shock for me to wake up and find out I had slept that long.
> 
> As always, kudos are greatly appreciated, so please be sure to leave some! Also, I reply to all comments, so give me some feedback! Updates are every Wednesday; however many chapters I have finished at the time will be what I post, so make sure to subscribe to be notified when I do update!
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!  
> -2MusicLover2


	7. Quidditch Tryouts

By Friday, some these other matters distracting Harry and Draco from ‘Mission: Expose Gilderoy Lockhart’ are revealed.

“Alright, everyone, listen up!” Holly announces at the Slytherins’ first monthly House Meeting for the year. “We’ve got a few things to go over and I’ve got things to do so I wanna get this done quickly!

“First off, my name is Holly Parkinson and next to me is Timothy Vieu; we are your newest prefects so you gotta do what we say. Sound good? Okay, good.”

Harry raises an eyebrow at Draco who rolls his eyes in return.

“Now,” Holly says, “we must go over some rules. I would first like to bring up the fact that, unfortunately, I am not allowed to remove any previous house rules, so, all the rules about the chairs by the fireplace still stand. I don’t really feel like going over them all now, but you can find them all posted on that bulletin board over there.

“Which brings us to my next point: the bulletin board. This is where announcements and whatever will be made. Third years and up can view the Hogsmeade trip dates and go on those if they have the proper permission form, and if not, I’m pretty sure there’s a black market for signatures. I’ve been told there is a second year Gryffindor boy who’s great with a quill and will sign for you for the right price. I’m not condoning this per say, but I am at least making you all aware.”

Harry vaguely recalls that Ron and Hermione have mentioned a boy named Dean Thomas who is, in fact, great with a quill and has drawn many things for the Gryffindor common room, including a lion that some upper years charmed to move like the paintings and photos to bring to all of the Quidditch games.

“Finally, I am sad to announce that Slytherin team’s Seeker, Terence Higgs, has graduated and moved on with his life. No idea what exactly he’s decided to do with it, but the point is he’s no longer here and so we need a new Seeker.”

Harry and Draco both exchange a look: they had been practicing all summer for this. One of them is bound to make the team. Harry smirks and then scans over the other members of his house to try and see what their competition might be. A few upper years are smirking and nodding along with their friends, and a pair of identical girls Harry doesn’t remember from last year look at each other in a way that reminds Harry of Holly when she’s planning something. Harry makes a note to watch out for them.

“Tryouts will start… er… Marcus, when did you say they were starting?” asks Holly.

Everyone turns to face Marcus Flint, Slytherin’s Quidditch Captain, where he stands towards the back.

“Tomorrow,” he answers Holly.

“Right,” Holly says. “So, Quidditch tryouts start tomorrow. Everyone is strongly encouraged to try out, but only one will make the team, so be excellent, ‘cause I wanna win the Quidditch Cup and House Cup both again this year. In fact, let me just say that those do not try out might just have some deep regrets, because if we want the best Seeker in the school, we have to find the best Seeker in Slytherin, which we can’t do if not everyone shows up.

“Alright, so that’s all, enjoy your evening, have a good year, these meetings are the first Friday of every month, I’ll see you all later!” Holly says, and then she’s out of the common room to do who knows what. Probably something dangerous and against most of the school rules if Harry knows anything about Holly.

The Slytherin boys enter their dormitory extremely excited.

“So, are you both ready to try out, then?” Greg asks Harry and Draco as they are all getting ready for bed.

“Definitely,” Harry replies.

“And at least one of us is totally going to end up on the team,” Draco adds. “I’m not gonna go easy on you by the way.”

Harry grins. “Good, because I wasn’t planning on going easy on you, either.”

~*~

Harry is proud to say that he is far from nervous the morning of Quidditch tryouts. He is quite the opposite, actually, as he grins at his friends between shoveling eggs and bacon into his mouth during breakfast.

“Do you maybe want to slow down, Harry?” Hermione asks, giving him a judgements look. “You might get sick.”

Harry shakes his head and takes another bite of bacon. “No way would I get sick,” he says. “Gotta eat enough to keep my strength up. Don’t know what kinda exercises Flint might have me do.”

“You really want to get on the team,” Ron remarks.

“Wouldn’t you, if Gryffindor was having tryouts?” Draco asks, also frantically eating like Harry.

“They are having tryouts. Hopefully to get a better Seeker. I don’t think I’d make it, though,” Ron says.

“Tell you what,” says Harry. “When Draco or I make the Slytherin Seeker, we can work with you to become a better Seeker. Then, next year, we might have some actual competition when facing Gryffindor.”

“Ugh. Tell me about it,” Ron says. “This season is bound to be just as terrible as the last one. Well, good luck to you both. I see Flint is heading out now, you should probably go join him.”

“Good luck, Harry! Good luck, Draco!” Hermione says to them both as they stand up and leave the Slytherin table, eagerly following Flint down to the Quidditch pitch.

“I just want to say,” Draco says as they walk across the grounds, “that when I get the position, I hope there will be no hard feelings between us. Best friends no matter what, yeah?”

“Bit cocky, now, aren’t we?” Harry says with a grin. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve faced Voldemort together, nothing can break us apart. So, I promise that there will be no hard feelings when _I_ get the position.”

Draco sends a half-hearted glare Harry’s way and then pushes his shoulder, causing Harry to retaliate in the same way.

When they arrive on the pitch they are both already covered in mud and grass, but are laughing so loudly the other prospective Seekers give them strange looks.

“Alright, everyone, listen up!” Flint says once it seems that everyone has gathered on the pitch, but no one stops talking as there wasn’t anyone talking to begin with, despite the fact that the _entirety_ of Slytherin is currently on the pitch. “We had a good season last year and ended up winning the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup, but good is all the season was. Our matches against Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were too close for my liking, and the only reason we won against Gryffindor was because their Seeker was incompetent on a broomstick. I don’t want another season like that, and I intend be so far ahead in points by the second match that the other houses don’t stand a chance. This means a lot of things for Slytherin team. Right now, I’m searching for a new Seeker. The other teams needing players aren’t having their tryouts for another few weeks, so we’re lucky to be getting such a head start by finding our Seeker the first week of term. By the end of the day, Slytherin will have a Seeker that the other houses will be afraid of.

“So, first up, I want the seventh years on the pitch. Everyone else take a seat in the stands. We’re going to pair you all up and have a few Seeker’s games until there is one Seeker left in the house. Then, sixth years will do the same, then fifth years, and so on until each house has a champion. Clear the pitch, except for seventh years!”

The crowd of Slytherins shoving their way off the pitch and into the stands is a mess, but Harry is excited to start this day of tryouts.

Once everyone is seated in the stands, Harry isn’t shocked to hear bets being taken on who will win each match based on the builds of the students alone.

“For our first match,” Flint announces once everyone has been paired up, “we have Alissa Morgan versus Justin Hart! The snitch is set to come back to me after ten minutes; whoever catches the snitch will move on to the next round! If neither player catches the snitch, they will both be disqualified and can join the stands to support their house in the rest of the tryouts! I expect the greatest effort from everyone in attempting to catch the snitch! We want the best of you!”

Harry studies the two players closely as the prepare to take off. Both seem confident with their brooms, but Alissa moves into her position with slightly more grace than Justin, his broad shoulders not quite seeming like the right build for a Seeker.

When Flint releases the snitch, Alissa and Justin take off instantly, speeding around the pitch after the faint blur that is the snitch glinting in the still-warm sunlight of early September. The crowd is absolutely silent, bets having been made and everyone focusing on their players as they chase after each other and the snitch.

The first noise from the crowd happens about two minutes in when Justin is reaching out towards the snitch, only about a foot away, then Alissa knocks into his side, allowing the snitch to escape from both of their grasps.

Every time one of them gets close to catching the snitch, the other one gets in their way and neither of them catch it. Finally, just as the snitch is starting to make its way from way up in the air towards Flint, both Seekers start flying towards it from opposite directions to cut it off. Harry is sure they are going to run into each other, by he still flinches when the collide midair and tumble to the ground. Harry winces at the impact they make upon the ground despite the fact that they were only a few feet above it.

Both Alissa and Justin are okay, as Alissa stands up first and holds out a hand to help Justin up. The crowd holds in a collective breath and then Justin holds up a triumphant fist, the snitch clutched tightly in it. Half of the crowd groans as they pass over their coins and the other half cheers, their bet having won.

“Huh,” Harry says. “I wasn’t expecting that one.”

“You were thinking Alissa was going to win, then?” Draco asks, less questioning and more vaguely curious.

“Yeah, she seems better built for the position, but then again he was closer to catching the snitch more often than she was,” Harry replies.

The rest of the matches go on in similar ways until eventually a girl named Veronica Mays comes out victorious against Lilliana Brock as the seventh year Seeker. Jake Farley, who Harry remembers as being one of the fifth year prefects last year, ends up being the sixth year Seeker, and Harry is completely unsurprised when Holly wins all of her matches to become the fifth year Seeker. Her final match is the most brutal of every match they had seen that day, her opponent only barely making it away with his life, let alone without any broken limbs.

“Wow, that was… wow,” Harry says as they watch Holly manically grinning while holding the snitch while the boy she had faced limps off to the stands.

“I think she’s been waiting for this moment to hurt him with the pretense of playing Quidditch,” Pansy tells Harry. “The two of them dated over the summer until yesterday when she found out that he had been cheating on her the whole time.”

Harry’s eyes widen. “Remind me to never give your sister any reason to be mad at me.”

“I would’ve thought you’d already made that promise to yourself,” Pansy says.

Finally, it’s the second years’ turn to walk onto the pitch and don the gear laid out for them all to protect themselves from too serious of injuries. The vary first match is Harry against Greg, which sends a small jolt of fear through Harry. He knows that he’s better on a broom than Greg, but the thought of Greg’s larger physique crashing into him midair is enough to make him slightly nervous.

Harry’s very first match is the quickest so far that day. As soon as Flint releases the snitch and tells them to begin, Harry takes off after it, not letting it out of his sight, and he catches it in a little over a minute, Greg a foot behind the end of his broom. Harry is mostly thankful for the speed of this match for not giving Greg a chance to knock him off his broom, because he would surely be capable. Nevertheless, Harry moves on to the second round where he shall compete against Blaise after a narrow win against Theo. Blaise is a harder opponent for Harry to beat than Greg was, however, Harry manages to catch the snitch after six minutes of the two boys knocking each other about in much the same way that Alissa and Justin had in the very first match of the day.

Due to there being an odd number of second years, Draco doesn’t get to join in the competition until the second round where he goes against Pansy who proves to be just as brutal as her sister.

“Ooh,” Harry says with a wince after Pansy nearly dislodges Draco from his broom for the third time. Her strategy seems to be injuring Draco to the point that she has an easy shot at the snitch without any interference from him.

Just when Harry thinks that both Pansy and Draco will end up being disqualified due to neither one catching the snitch, the real action starts. Draco decides to start using Pansy’s strategy against her and the next time he is about to catch the snitch, Pansy speeds towards him, about to crash into him, but he pulls away at the absolute last second, causing her to crash into the side of the stands and fall to the ground, landing with a groan. Seconds later, Draco lands on the pitch with the snitch held in his hand.

The matches go on until Harry and Draco are the only second years left, Harry feeling confident with one more win than Draco due to Harry’s being in one more match than Draco.

“No hard feelings when I win, remember?” Draco says with a smirk as they both mount their brooms on either side of Flint.

“Mm, I think you meant no hard feelings when _I_ win,” Harry retorts.

“Since you haven’t competed in the same amount of matches,” Flint says loud enough that the crowd can hear him, the snitch still in his hand, “if Harry wins, only he will move on to the next bracket. If Draco wins, that will put you both with the same amount of wins, so you will both proceed to the next bracket. Good luck to both of you.”

With that, Flint releases the snitch and Harry and Draco both take off. Harry is instantly transported back to the grounds of Malfoy Manor and all of the Seeker’s games he and Draco had had over the summer.

Harry’s eyes flick over the field, searching for that glimpse of gold, but he can’t find it anywhere. Also, the crowd is far louder than it had been during any other match. Before there had only been the low hum of murmurs, but now they are cheering is Harry is extremely confused until he sees Draco standing in the middle of the pitch, holding up his hand with the snitch already in it. He must have caught it only seconds after Flint had told them to begin. It was the shortest match yet by far.

“Draco Malfoy wins!” Flint announces to the roaring crowd. “Both he and Harry will proceed to compete against the other years for the position of Seeker!”

Harry is far from upset. He not only gets to stay in the competition despite his loss but his best friend had proven himself to be an excellent Seeker.

“Good job,” Harry says to Draco, completely sincere as he pats him on the back with a grin on their way back into the stands.

“Thanks! You did good too,” Draco replies, absolutely thriving in all the attention he is receiving for his win.

They don’t pay much attention to the first years in their matches, Draco being far too busy receiving quiet praise for catching the snitch so quickly and possibly breaking some kind of school record.

“Really, though,” Draco says as he and Harry make their way back onto the pitch along with the winners from each year, “I can’t have broken any records since this wasn’t a true Quidditch match. It’s unfortunate, really, that I’ve done something so amazing and skillful and yet will never receive any proper recognition for it.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll receive enough recognition. The entirety of Slytherin house watched you do it. I’m sure the story will spread to the other houses soon enough. I’m a little disappointed I didn’t actually see it, though.”

“You didn’t see it?!” Draco exclaims. “I can’t believe you. My greatest accomplishment ever and you didn’t even see it even though you were _right there_.”

“Sorry, I was a little preoccupied with trying to find the snitch for myself,” Harry says.

He is thankfully saved from too harsh of a glare by Flint declaring that Harry and the first year girl, Hestia Carrow, will be the first ones to compete in the finals. Harry recognizes her as one of the twins he had seen during the house meeting that reminded him of Holly, and he resigns himself to having to use any method possible to win. The look of pure determination on her face makes him a little wary of what she might do, but he refuses to lose to her.

“Begin!” Flint shouts as he lets go of the snitch, and Harry and Hestia are instantly neck and neck for the snitch, just feet ahead of them.

Harry was right about Hestia being very similar to Holly. With a sneer that distorts her entire face, she shoves herself into Harry’s side, knocking him away from the path of the snitch. He shoves himself right back into her even harder and uses the moment of her being stunned by his aggression to escape higher into the air to better see where the snitch could have gone. He scans the pitch, all while making sure to not let Hestia out of his sight, when he sees her suddenly diving towards the ground. Without hesitation, Harry dives so that he might cut her off. He sees her glance up towards him and then she comes to a halt and starts heading straight for him. It is then that he realizes she never saw the snitch and was only trying to lead him on a wild goose chase or force him to crash. He also quickly realizes that she is not looking at him but over his head. He looks up and there, so close he’s surprised it didn’t get caught in his messy hair, is the snitch. He darts his hand up and is thrilled when he catches it just before it darts away and slips through his fingers.

“Harry Potter has beaten Hestia Carrow to catch the snitch and will move on to the next round!” Flint hollers over the cheers and groans of the crowd.

Harry’s next match is against Holly. He is far from happy about the prospect of having to go against another brutal player who will stop at nothing to win, but he wants the Seeker’s position to bad to just give up.

“Better watch it, Harry,” Draco says as Harry leaves the sidelines to join Holly and Flint. “She seems to be in a very murderous mood today.”

“I don’t blame her, but still. It’s not like _I_ did anything to her,” Harry replies.

“Yes, well, I don’t think she really cares about _who_ was involved in the whole thing. She just wants to get her aggressions out,” Draco says.

Sure enough, the fact that Harry really had nothing to do with her boyfriend cheating on her doesn’t seem to stop Holly from being as brutal as possible as she continually crashes into him, once even elbowing him in the stomach and nearly causing him to slip of his broom from the instant pain. He just about resolves to losing when he manages to get Harry out in the same he had Pansy: getting her to crash into the stands instead of him. He feels momentarily sympathetic towards her when she shrieks upon crashing and then groans in pain when she finally lands on the ground, but then he focuses again on finding the snitch. He hadn’t seen it for a couple of minutes and is just getting worried that he is too late when he sees it heading towards Flint from way up by the top of one of the goalposts. Instead of trying to chase after it, Harry flies as quick as his broom will allow towards Flint and then waits from the snitch to come to him, catching it just before his time would have been up.

“Slightly impractical way of catching it,” Flint mutters to him. “But, I’ll take it. Harry Potter has caught the snitch!”

Harry grins and passes the snitch back over to Flint for Draco’s match against Jake Farley, and then he hurried over to make sure Holly is okay.

“Sorry about that,” Harry says as Holly begrudgingly takes his hand to help her up. “I just couldn’t let neither of us win and if you had kept attacking me rather than search for the snitch then that’s exactly what would have happened.”

Holly grimaces but pulls him into her side and ruffles his hair affectionately once she is standing. “Gotta give you credit for wanting to win. Woulda thought that you would have taken a little pity on a grieving widow and let her win, though.”

“You’re not exactly a ‘grieving widow,’” Harry says. “I thought you were trying to kill him.”

“All the same,” Holly says with a shrug and a grin.

Draco and Jake’s match isn’t nearly as short as what Harry and Draco’s was, but Draco still comes out the winner, meaning he and Harry are to compete in the final match for the position of Seeker on the Slytherin house team.

“I feel morally obligated to wish you good luck since you’re my best friend,” Draco says as they wait for Flint to release the snitch. “But I’d rather win, so I’m feeling a bit conflicted here.”

Harry shrugs. “As long as you celebrate me when I win then it’s all the same to me.”

“Git,” Draco says.

“Prat,” Harry retorts.

They both grin at each other.

“Begin!” Flint shouts.

This time, Harry keeps his eye on Draco when they first take off to avoid making the same mistake as last time. It seems he doesn’t have to worry, however, as Draco takes off in the opposite direction of the snitch, soaring up so he is level with the top of the goal posts, but he stays in the middle of the pitch, turning in a steady circle as he scans his surroundings for the snitch.

Harry takes a moment, torn between joining Draco and traversing the pitch on the hunt for the snitch, before he sees it, hovering above the stands where his friends are sitting. He wastes no time in speeding off towards it, steering his broom and turning at just the right angle and moment so that he is able to follow the tiny golden ball as close as possible.

Just as he is reaching his arm out, Draco slams into his side, trying to force himself ahead of Harry to gain himself better access to the snitch.

It plummets towards the ground before either of them manage to make a grab for it and they are both forced to pull away; their brooms don’t have fine enough turning capabilities that they would be able to turn around in time to go after the snitch.

Harry takes the prime spot up in the air to search the pitch this time, which ends up being a blessing for him as he spots the snitch again, this time glinting in the sunlight as it speeds from behind him on his right and he immediately starts after it.

This time when it changes direction, he’s ready for it and manages to follow it closely. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Draco isn’t close enough to him to become an issue, but he will be soon, so Harry sticks his arm out in front of him, reaching as far as he can towards the snitch, until he reaches slightly too far and his broom tilts forwards.

He feels one of the wings fluttering, slightly crushed in his hand, and he’s shocked he was able to stay on his broom.

“Harry Potter has caught the snitch! Slytherin’s newest Seeker is Harry Potter!” Flint announces from his spot in the middle of the pitch.

Harry readjusts his grip on the snitch, refusing to let go but allowing the wings to fold back up around the golden ball, and holds it up triumphantly in the air as he takes a victory lap around the pitch, showing his catch off to everyone in the stands.

After one lap, he heads back to the ground and lands where Flint stands with his arm around Draco, talking to him.

“…really well, anyways, one of the best we’ve seen all day, actually. So how would you like to be reserve Seeker? You can practice with the team and then Harry will have someone to practice against. Maybe if you start beating him most of the time at practices then you can become the true Seeker and he can be reserve,” Flint is saying when Harry joins them.

“No, I couldn’t. The Seeker was meant to be whoever won this whole competition. I couldn’t take the place of reserve Seeker,” Draco says, shaking his head hurriedly.

“Why not?” Harry cuts in. “That catch you made earlier the first time we faced each other today… it was spectacular. I think you should take it. And, like Flint said, I’m going to need someone to practice against anyways. You’ve been the best opponent for me so far, so why not have it be you?”

“Fine, I guess,” Draco concedes, and the easiness with which he does it proves to Harry that he was only saying ‘no’ to hear more praise as reasons why he should say ‘yes’.

“Good,” Flint says. “So, practices will start Monday, you can have a break for tomorrow. We’ll have them every day, after that, though. I’ll give you more information sometime soon. For now, go celebrate. You are our new Seekers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry this chapter is a day late, I lost track of what day it was and only realized it was Thursday when I got a notification for one of my classes.
> 
> Unfortunately, I still have one more scene to write for chapter 8, so today will not be a double update. I’ve got a bit of writer’s block with it at the moment, so I’ve been focusing more on my other works.
> 
> How did you enjoy the tryouts? It was really fun for me to write and I’m looking forward to writing more Quidditch matches and practices. I wasn’t really sure how to go about it at first as I’ve never written anything involving sports of any kind (I leave the sports thing to my brother, physical activity is *not* my thing) but I found that once I started writing I got more and more ideas for it. I’m still not sure about it, though, so let me know your thoughts for future Quidditch scenes. Did I do a good job of it? Should I add more description of the action? Sporty people, did I portray the sportiness well? Please comment to let me know!
> 
> I really appreciate every comment and and everyone who leaves kudos! It makes my day every time I get the notification that someone commented and when I wake up in the morning to see how many people of left kudos! Remember, I reply to all comments, so please be sure to leave them!
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!  
> -2MusicLover2


	8. Lockhart

Dinner at the Slytherin table that night was interesting. Harry and Draco both keep getting congratulations from people they have never spoken to before, and while Harry blushes and stumbles through his thanks, Draco seems to be thriving in the attention.

“So, I’ve been hearing the rumors, and I guess you both have some good news,” Ron says when he and Hermione arrive at the Slytherin table.

“Oh, yes,” Draco replies with an air of flippancy even though they all know he is truly excited. “I’ve quite possibly broken a record for shortest Seeker’s Match—less than a minute. No one’s checked yet, though, so we don’t know for sure. My bet’s on I _did_ , but apparently I can’t claim such fame until it’s actually been _proven_.” He rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed by the fact that he might not receive his deserved recognition.

“Well, I can check for you in a week,” Ron says. “McGonagall finally told me what my detention is. I have to clean the entire trophy room _without magic_. How is that fair? How did Muggles clean?”

“With soap and water, Ronald. I hope you know what that is, at least, considering wizards still use it to bathe,” Hermione says exasperatedly.

Before Ron can reply, Snape approaches them and stands behind Harry and Draco, his hands clasped behind his back and his face as expressionless as ever.

“Yes, Professor?” Harry asks after an uncomfortable moment of Snape staring at him while they all stare back.

It takes another long moment for Snape to respond. “I believe congratulations are in order,” he drawls. “Marcus tells me he has appointed you the new Slytherin Seeker, and Draco is the reserve Seeker. I trust you will both work hard to bring Slytherin another win this year, although I fear your grades may slip.”

“Thank you, sir. They won’t, sir,” Harry says, not wanting to break the extremely fragile truce he and Snape seem to have going so far this year.

“Good,” Snape says. He watches them for another moment before pulling a slip of parchment out of the folds of his cloak. “Your detention for that… unfortunate little stunt you pulled at the beginning of the term… you shall serve it next Saturday evening with Professor Lockhart. I believe he mentioned that you were to help him answer his fan mail. Don’t be late.”

“Professor Lockhart?” Harry bursts, any semblance of keeping himself away from Snape’s spite leaving him. “I’m sorry, Professor, but I don’t think I can manage that. Lockhart, he… well, you’ve met him! He’s insufferable!”

“Be that as it may, Potter, it is a detention for a reason. No one said you were supposed to _enjoy_ yourself. Frankly, I don’t really care if spending time with him will make your head explode from the trauma of his ignorance and sheer stupidity. You will serve this detention or I will send you back home and you’ll never return to Hogwarts again,” Snape says.

Hermione gasps. “You can’t talk about other professors that way!”

“Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger. I can talk about whom I wish, however I wish. _You_ , however, should refrain from speaking to professors in such a tone.”

With that, he sweeps his cloak around him and stalks off to the staff table.

“Good going, Hermione. You should know better than to berate Snape; who cares what he says about Lockhart? He’s not exactly wrong, is he?” Ron says, taking to sulking over his dinner.

“Tough luck with that detention, mate,” Draco says to Harry, quickly changing the topic so as to avoid Hermione unleashing her wrath on Ron. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Lockhart has been trying to use you for your fame.”

Harry laughs without any humor. “Yes, but you do know better, so you know that Lockhart is _much_ more famous than I,” he says with deep sarcasm as he picks at his dinner, more pushing it around his plate than eating it.

Draco shrugs. “He can still be using you for even _more_ fame. Gotta get up to that Order of Merlin, _Second_ Class status. He’s not above using all the help he can get. It really is a wonder he was a Ravenclaw and not a Slytherin. If I have to say _one_ decent thing about the guy, it’s that he’s got ambition. Maybe not the _right_ ambition, but it’s definitely there.”

“Can you really say he has ambition though?” Blaise asks, taking this opportunity to cut in and start complaining about Lockhart. “ _Ambition_ and a simple _desire for fame_ are two completely different things. He may want to be famous, but he doesn’t possess the drive to get himself there.”

“That’s actually a pretty valid point,” says Draco. “I take it back then, I don’t see how he could have been Slytherin. Still don’t understand the whole Ravenclaw thing, though.”

“Yes, well…” says Harry. “Maybe I’ll have to ask him at my detention. Then again, I’d much rather he stayed silent. I’m not sure how I’m going to put up with him one-on-one for an hour.”

“Good luck with that,” Ron says.

Hermione, on the other hand, shakes her head, still defending the professor. “He’s not that bad!”

“Coming from you, who put hearts around every single one of his classes on your timetable,” Ron remarks.

“You _what_?” Pansy asks Hermione incredulously as she turns away from her conversation with Millicent, right in the middle of a sentence.

Hermione blushes deeply and focuses her attention on picking apart her dinner roll. “I have done no such thing. Ronald is making things up.”

“You only call me Ronald when I’m really annoying you,” Ron says with a grin. “And you wouldn’t be annoyed by this if it wasn’t the truth.”

“Regardless,” Hermione says, feigning haughtiness, but not continuing in her self-defense.

“Let’s see these little hearts, then,” Pansy says, standing up in her seat and reaching across the table to grab Hermione’s ever-present bag of books from next to her. She narrowly avoids coating her robes in several different foods and surprisingly manages to grab the bag before Hermione can stop her, turning around to rifle through it before pulling out the timetable in question with a victorious “Aha!” and smooths the parchment out on the table in front of her, carelessly pushing dishes out of her way in the process.

To Harry’s horror, there are indeed little red hearts decoration the parchment wherever Lockhart’s name appears. They aren’t normal doodles either, as Hermione seems to have taken great care to charm each one to dance around his name. Some of them change colors, fading from red to purple to pink and then back to red again, while others sparkle in the candlelight, and others seem to emit a slight glow of their own.

“I’m sorry, but I can no longer be associated with you,” Blaise says, completely unapologetically.

“Yeah, ‘Mione, I’m sorry, but this is a bit extreme,” Draco says, his eyes wide as he stares at the parchment as if he can’t look away.

Hermione snatches the parchment away and grabs her bag back from Pansy. “I don’t have to put up with this.”

“And yet you do,” Ron says with a grin, and she smacks the back of his head. “Sorry.”

“You better be,” Hermione replies.

“Better be what?”

And, of course, it’s Holly joining them and shoving herself onto the bench between Harry and Draco, completely disregarding their glares.

“Better be sorry,” Hermione says. “They’re letting their dislike of Lockhart blind them from the fact that he’s actually a brilliant wizard.”

Holly purses her lips and looks at Hermione, seeming to be contemplating something. “You are one strange girl,” she finally settles on, and then snatches a chip off Harry’s plate, sticking her tongue out at him and grabbing another when he unsuccessfully attempts to swat her hands away.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hermione asks, and Holly shrugs.

“Thought you were supposed to be top of your class, is all,” says Holly.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Hermione asks, even more defensive than before.

“Don’t worry about it,” Holly says, then she turn her attention to Harry. “So, I’m proud of you for beating me and becoming Seeker and all, but I’ve gotta say, I’m a little disappointed that Draco didn’t make the true team after his first win against you. I’ve been debating on making a petition to have your positions switched, so you’re just the reserve and he’s the actual Seeker.”

“I actually wouldn’t oppose such a petition,” Harry says. “Even though I _did_ beat him in the final match, fair and square.”

“Good!” Holly grins. “Because I’ve actually already made the petition and have gotten a few signatures. Here. Sign.”

She thrusts a quill into Harry’s hand as she pulls a piece of parchment from her robes, already crammed with a number of signatures, front and back.

“Where am I supposed to sign this? There’s no room,” Harry says with a laugh.

Holly rolls her eyes. “ _Make room_ , then.”

Harry rolls his eyes right back and sighs as he pulls the parchment more fully in front of him to search for a spot to sign. He ends up squeezing his name between Christina Wilde and Henry Abercrombie, and then hands both the petition and quill back to Holly, who grins.

“I would have you sign it,” she says to Draco, “but I’m afraid it might look a bit big-headed or self-indulgent of you. I figure having Harry sign it gives it a little more validation, though, as his position is the one you’ll be taking.”

“Completely understood,” Draco says.

“I don’t get it,” says Hermione. “Wasn’t the whole point of the try-outs to see who the best player was? And if Harry won, isn’t the position rightfully his? Didn’t you guys say that you wanted to be Seeker more than anything, Harry?”

“Yes,” Harry says. “But Draco beat me the first time we played against each other in the tournament. If it wasn’t for a technicality, he would have been the only one to move on to the finals and he would be the Seeker.”

“I still don’t understand,” Hermione says.

“Yes, well, you grew up in the Muggle world, so you wouldn’t really understand Quidditch, would you?” Draco says, his tone making it more of a statement than a question.

“I grew up in the Muggle world and I understand Quidditch,” Harry points out.

“Well, it’s not anyone’s job to understand _why_ Draco should be on the team instead of Harry. It only matters that they agree with me,” says Holly, and with that, she stands up and flashes them all another one of her slightly terrifying grins. “I’ll just hand this over to Marcus. See you all later!”

“Why don’t I trust her?” Hermione asks as she watches Holly hand the petition of to an unsurprised Marcus Flint.

“It’s best to not trust her and just always be wary,” Pansy replies.

~*~

Marcus catches Harry and Draco on their way to the Quidditch pitch on Monday after they have eaten a quick dinner, and shows the the petition that Holly had made.

“So, it has come to my attention that many people would rather Draco be the Seeker and Harry be the reserve Seeker,” he says by way of greeting.

Harry nods and Draco absolutely preens at the fact that people keep saying he is better than Harry… the best in all of Slytherin.

“So, I’ve decided on a compromise,” Marcus says, and Harry and Draco exchange a thoughtful look. “Rather than name either of you as the official Seeker, you are both going to practice your hardest and whenever a match rolls around, whoever has been doing better will be the one to play in the match.”

“That sounds… not too bad,” Draco says. “I can get behind that.”

“Me too,” says Harry.

“Good, because you didn’t actually have an option because I’ve already made up my mind and this is how we’re doing it,” Marcus says with a pat on each of their shoulders.

~*~

Wednesday’s Defense lesson is agony for Harry, and he fears it is only a glimpse into what is in store for him on Saturday night.

The misfortune with the Cornish pixies and the Gryffindors seems to have put Lockhart off of his practical Defense lessons, so instead he has decided to read from his books.

“Not only will we be reading them as a class,” he announces with his obnoxious smile, “we will also be reenacting them! So, which book shall we start with? I’m open to suggestions!”

No one suggests anything, choosing instead to remain silent with disgusted looks stuck on their faces, permanent fixtures for every Slytherin as soon as they start making their way to the class until they escape the hallway at the end of it.

“Oh, come, now! Surely, you have _some_ scene you’re dying to see me display!”

Still, silence. Lockhart doesn’t let it phase him, however, and he picks up the book on the top of the stack in front of Pansy.

“ _Wandering With Werewolves_ , then, yeah? I think it’s a great one. So, how about we give everyone parts? I’ll be me, of course. I hate to say it, but I don’t think any of you can manage such a large role quite yet. Harry! How would you like to be the poor werewolf?”

“Er… I’d rather just—”

“Perfect! And how about… Blaise, how about you be the unfortunate lad who first fell victim to our werewolf, here, and started my hunt for justice?”

Blaise scowls. “I think you better rethink that decision, Professor. My mother no longer has a need for you, putting me in jeopardy, even if only for a _re-enactment_ could very well be the thing that brings about her wrath and causes your painful demise.”

Lockhart hesitates. “The young man who pointed me in the direction of the werewolf, then? I’m afraid it’s not nearly as important of a role, but—”

“I’ll take it,” Blaise says, seeming to realize he won’t get out of having to act as _someone_.

The rest of the class goes on in much the same way, with Harry being forced to pretend he is brutally attacking Greg as Lockhart narrates the scene, and Harry actually groans when Lockhart asks him to stay back again after class.

“Excellent job today, Harry,” Lockhart says, clasping Harry’s shoulder and pulling him into his side in what some might consider a fatherly gesture but Harry just considers downright annoying and torturous. “I’d say you might make an excellent actor one day. Just a career option for you. We can’t all be professional Dark Arts hunters like me, you know. It would be great for you to have a fall back. Acting would be a good one for you. Just imagine—if, some day, you end up on the stage in front of a crowd of witches and wizards, you can tell them that you got your start in this very classroom, acting out the adventures of your favorite professor—me!”

Harry can think of many things to say to that. First of all, that he has never even considered what career path he might want to take, but acting is surely not it. Or that he could probably be a much better Dark Arts hunter than Lockhart will _ever_ be. He really wants to say that even if he suffers from severe brain damage in some horribly traumatic event and ends up becoming an actor, he most certainly _will not_ say that he got his start by acting in this classroom because what he did today was a far cry from proper acting and also Lockhart is the furthest thing from his favorite professor—even Snape currently ranks above him.

What Harry settles on saying is “Er, sure, Professor.”

“Now, Harry, I would like to talk to you about something a bit more serious,” Lockhart says, finally—finally! Thank Merlin!—releasing Harry from his side and turning to face him. “I’m sure Professor Snape has informed you of your detention with me this Saturday?”

“Yes,” Harry says.

“Excellent!” Lockhart smiles. “Now, I must assure you that while this is supposed to be a punishment and in no way enjoyable for you, I saved you from what could have been much worse. As I said before, I fear that your actions were a direct result of my encouragement of your minor claim to fame, and so I felt it was my duty to save you.”

“Of course, Professor,” Harry says.

“Glad you understand, Harry! Now, I’m afraid you must run along; we shan’t keep Snape waiting for a second week in a row!”

“Of course not, Professor,” Harry says, and he escapes from Lockhart’s classroom, not even waiting for another word.

Snape only gives him his usual glare and jabs a finger towards the board on which the directions are written, then starts mumbling under his breath. Harry thinks he hears something along the lines of “…how that blithering idiot was ever hired…” but he can’t be too sure. Regardless, Harry doesn’t think he’s ever agreed with Snape more.

“How I am ever going to survive detention with Lockhart, I have no idea,” Harry tells Draco, Ron, and Hermione as he sets up his cauldron.

“Don’t ask me,” says Ron. “I’ve got the Trophy Room with Filch.”

Harry sighs. “I’d take Filch over Lockhart any day.”

_That blithering idiot_ indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! It’s a bit of a shorter chapter today, but chapter 9 is already over 4,000 words and I’m not finished with it yet, so it’ll be made up for next week!
> 
> So, as I was writing this chapter, I was having an internal debate with myself about why Lockhart had been in Ravenclaw. At first, I thought he should have been in Slytherin, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that he didn’t actually have any true ambition, one of Slytherin’s prized qualities, as Blaise pointed out. He wanted to be famous, but he didn’t want to do any work to actually get himself there. I also knew that he couldn’t have been Gryffindor, because he didn’t show any courage, nobility, or braveness, ever, and was much more inclined to run away from danger or throw little twelve-year-olds into the face of it rather than himself. Hufflepuff was a no go, as he was far from loyal and often took credit for other people’s work. But, as Hermione consistently points out, there is nothing to suggest that Lockhart is, in fact, unintelligent. He has mastered memory charms, a very complicated bit of magic, to the point where he can alter multiple peoples memories at a time to make them think he had been the one to save the day instead of someone else. I also believe that he had a very strong knowledge of magical theory, and he knew *how* defensive magic worked and *why* defensive magic worked, as well as most other types of magic, but he was simply unskilled in the area of actually performing said magic. Thus, Ravenclaw.
> 
> Anyways, sorry for the little rant about Lockhart’s house. I just needed to work out for myself the reasoning for where he was Sorted, and writing it down helped.
> 
> As always, kudos are very much appreciated and I reply to all comments! Please remember to subscribe to be notified when I post the next chapter! Updates are every Wednesday! Hope you enjoyed!  
> -2MusicLover2


	9. Enemies of the Heir, Beware

The night of Harry’s detention arrives much too quickly, in Harry’s opinion. Grudgingly, he leaves his friends doing their homework at one of the high tables in the common room to make his way to Lockhart’s office. He pouts his entire walk through the halls and when he finally reaches the door to Lockhart’s office, he hesitates, gathering up the strength sitting for hours in a room with Lockhart and nothing to act as a buffer will require of him, before he knocks on the door.

“Ah, Harry, welcome!” Lockhart greets, much to cheery for Harry’s taste, as he lets him into the office only seconds after Harry had knocked. It’s so quick that Harry almost gets the feeling that Lockhart had been waiting next to his door for Harry to arrive. “Come, sit, tonight we’re going to be answering my fan mail!”

“Well, don’t you think _you_ should be the one to answer it, seeing as its for _you_? I’ll bet your fans would much rather they hear from you than me,” Harry says, grasping for anything that could possibly get him out of this punishment. This night could very well turn out to be even more horrifying than when he, Draco, and Hermione had to go into the Forbidden Forest for a detention last year.

“Of course, Harry!” Lockhart says, and Harry almost lets a grin break out on his face before Lockhart adds, “That’s why you’ll only be addressing the envelopes for me.”

“Of course,” Harry says, grimacing.

Reluctantly, Harry takes a seat across from Lockhart at the professor’s desk and tries not to groan as Lockhart pulls out sacks bursting full of letters from underneath his desk.

“There must a thousand letters in there!” Harry says, unable to keep the terror out of his voice. Luckily, Lockhart doesn’t seem to catch it.

“I know!” Lockhart says, much more excited than Harry. “More than a thousand, actually! I like to keep in contact with as many of my fans as I can. I will admit, I am closer with some of them than others. This first young lad, for example, I don’t believe I’ve gotten anything from him before… _Devin Elroy_ … no, I don’t recall the name. Always remember your fans, Harry, once you’re old enough and a bit more famous, that is. Oh, yes, always remember your fans. Strong relationships with them will only allow your popularity to grow… come, now, Harry! No time to spare, we have quite a few of these letters to get through! _Devin Elroy_ is who this one should be made out to. D-E-V—”

It takes a miracle, but Harry manages to restrain himself from heaving an exasperated sigh as he grabs an envelope and a quill and starts writing out the name of Lockhart’s fan as Lockhart spells it out to him. He has no idea how he will manage to get through the night with Lockhart prattling on like this.

“As I was saying, it is very important to keep up decent relationships with your fans, because what is fame if not for your fans? Nothing, without them… absolutely nothing.”

“I thought you said fame isn’t important and I shouldn’t worry about it?” Harry asks, if only to contradict his professor and watch him grapple for a suitable answer on the hopes that he’ll just give up and stop talking. Unfortunately, Harry doesn’t get the pleasure of watching Lockhart stumble over his words, as he seems to have already come up with the perfect answer for this.

“Fame is a fickle friend, Harry,” Lockhart says knowledgably. “It will bring you great wealth and power, but you should never strive for it. There is a certain balance to these things. Live in the balance and you will be set for life. Take me for example! I never _asked_ to be so famous… these things just happen to those of us the universe believes can handle it.

“Ah! Gladys Gudgeon, bless her! Sends me weekly letters, she does. I might even say she’s my biggest fan,” Lockhart says as he hands Devin Elroy’s letter over to Harry and pulls another letter out of the sack.

“Brilliant,” Harry says, already tired and ready to go back into the comfort of the Slytherin dorms.

“Yes, it is quite brilliant indeed… always keeps me up to date on her gardening and her grandchildren… just had her fourteenth it seems! Shame I couldn’t be there, I’m quite close with the whole family. Nice people, they are.

“Duty calls, though, and I’ve got to keep all your little heads full of knowledge and make sure you’re all up to living out there in the real world! Got to make sure you’re ready. Some of you may even be lucky enough to end up like me! I reckon you could be one of those such students, Harry. But, if, I’m time, you do earn yourself a bit of fame, always remember yourself. Celebrity is as celebrity does, Harry, remember that.”

Harry doesn’t really feel like remembering that, however, so he decides to tune Lockhart out in the hopes that he can save himself a few brain cells. Rather than listening for the names Lockhart tells him to write down on the envelopes, Harry just waits until Lockhart hands him his return letter to his fans, and Harry addresses the envelope and puts the letter inside before setting it off to the side in the quickly growing pile. The repetitiveness of his task quickly makes Harry tired and, soon enough, he hits his head on the desk and instantly wakes up from drifting off to sleep. He could have sworn he had heard a voice, but he figures it was just a dream.

“You okay there, Harry? My, my, look at the time! We’ve been here nearly four hours! No wonder you’re falling asleep on me!” Lockhart exclaims. “I can wrap up here, Harry. Go ahead and head on back to your dorms.”

Harry quickly stands and leaves the office before Lockhart could possibly change his mind. As soon as he deems himself a safe distance away where Lockhart can’t reasonably call him back, he slows down and has to fight to keep his eyes open as he walks.

“ _Come… come to me… let me rip you… let me tear you… let me kill you…_ ”

Harry stops in his tracks and snaps his eyes open, looking around him, now wide awake. There’s no one there, but his skin crawls in fear.

“Not funny guys…” Harry says cautiously, sure that either a ghost or one of his friends is lurking around the corner and messing with him. He takes the few steps to get around the corner and looks down both ends of the hall, frowning when no one is there. “I’m too tired to deal with this,” he mutters to himself, sure that one of the ghosts has hidden itself in the walls so that he can’t see them. It’s probably just Peeves, he thinks.

Despite his surety that he is in no immediate danger, he can’t help but feel tense until he gets to the Slytherin common room and says the password, “Hydro chloroplasts,” which Holly had told him she picked as the password because it was fun to say and even more fun to watch people try and remember it and say it.

“Finally! Took you long enough!” Draco whisper-shouts across the nearly empty common room as Harry enters. “What kept you so late? I would have thought you’d’ve wanted to escape as soon as possible.”

“I might have fallen asleep,” Harry admits with a shrug. “Started hearing creepy voices and everything. Did it again in the halls on the way back here.”

Draco laughs as Harry yawns. “You fell asleep while walking?”

“Do you blame me?” Harry asks. “I had to endure four hours of listening to Lockhart ramble on about being famous as we _answered his fan mail_. I refuse to receive another detention for as long as he is here.”

“So, I suppose you’re too tired to go over that transfiguration homework with me?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Harry says emphatically as he flops down onto a couch and adjust the throw pillows under his head to be more comfortable.

“You’re sleeping out here?” Draco asks with a raised eyebrow.

Harry hums and settles deeper into the couch, much too tired to walk down the hallway to his dorm and change into his pajamas to sleep in his bed.

“Okay, then. See you in the morning,” Draco says, leaving Harry alone in the common room.

~*~

The next morning, Harry startles awake and falls onto the floor when someone claps loudly right next to his head. He groans as he sits up and looks around him to see Holly standing behind the couch and laughing at him.

“What was that for?” Harry asks as she continues to laugh at him.

Holly shrugs. “Seemed fun. I was right. You should’ve seen your face.”

Harry rolls his eyes and stands up, lightly pushing Holly’s shoulder as he passes by her on his way to his dorm to change his robes. Everyone is still asleep, however, and with a quick glance at his watch, Harry sees that it is still only three in the morning. Rather than change into his pajamas only to change into clean robes in a few hours, Harry just slips off his shoes and lands face first on his bed, too lazy to draw the emerald green curtains around him.

The next time he wakes up, everyone has left the dorm except for Blaise, who is sitting on his bed and reading a book as he chews on a licorice wand.

“Time?” Harry mumbles in question.

“Lunch just started a few minutes ago,” Blaise answers, taking another bite of his licorice wand and holding it between his teeth as he flips a page.

Harry’s stomach growls and he nods his head. “Starving,” he says to Blaise.

“Sounds like it,” Blaise says. “I’d check in the mirror before you head up there, though.”

Harry nods and scrunches up his face, then gets up and heads into the en suite bathroom to look in the mirror and see exactly what Blaise means. He’s glad for the heads up, as half of his hair is stuck flat to his head while the other half is sticking straight up, and his robes are all twisted and wrinkled. He does his best to make his hair look somewhat decent and he straightens his robes out, not really caring about the wrinkles. Blaise raises a single eyebrow at him as he walks back out of the bathroom but makes no comment.

“You coming, or no?” Harry asks.

“I’ve got my licorice wands,” Blaise says, holding up the candy as an answer.

“Okay,” Harry says, and then he yawns again before making his way to the Great Hall.

It doesn’t take long for him to find his friends, minus Blaise and Draco, sitting at the Slytherin table, and he joins them, instantly loading his plate with food.

“So, how was your detention with Lockhart?” Ron asks once Harry slows down a bit in his eating.

“He wouldn’t shut _up_ ,” Harry says. “And he kept me there for _four hours_. Four hours! Seriously! I had to help him answer his fan mail for _four hours_!”

“That’s rough,” says Ron.

“What about you?” Harry asks. “How’d it go with Filch?”

“I wasn’t there for four hours, so I suppose it went better than yours. Oh, and I found out that Draco _did_ break that record, by almost two minutes,” Ron says as he grabs another three chicken legs to put on his plate.

“Where _is_ he? I saw Blaise in the dorm when I woke up, but I haven’t seen Draco since I got back from detention,” Harry says.

“He took Flint to go see Dumbledore about getting a trophy for his record,” Hermione says. “I think Holly went with them, too.”

“Why would Holly go with them?” Harry questions.

“Because, Harry,” Pansy says exasperatedly. “It’s my sister and it’s what she does. I thought you knew better than to question her antics?”

Before Harry can reply, Draco comes bounding into the Great Hall and plops himself down beside Harry, practically vibrating with excitement.

“They’re giving me a plaque in the trophy room!” he says before anyone can ask him anything. “I’ve broken the record! Two whole minutes!

“One minute and fifty-two seconds,” Ron grumbles.

“Oh, same difference,” says Draco. “My name will forever be in this school as a record-holder for everyone to see.”

Harry smirks. “Not necessarily _forever_. Only until someone else breaks your record.”

“I caught the snitch in less that thirty seconds—no one is gonna beat that record.”

“Congratulations, Draco!” Holly shouts across the Great Hall as she walks in. “I just watched Filch put it up! You now hold the school record of catching the Snitch in only nineteen seconds!”

Draco stands up from his seat and bows , soaking up all of the attention from the students and teachers giving him stunned congratulations.

“Thank you, thank you!” he calls out, and the cheering dies down, which makes him frown. “Did I tell you to stop cheering? I was only saying thanks. Keep praising me!”

Hesitantly and perhaps even a little bit scared, the applause picks back up, and Draco’s smile returns to his face.

“Hey, Holly?” Harry asks before she sits down with her friends. “Come here, I have a question for you.”

“What is it?” she asks him.

Around them, the cheering dies down again as everyone goes back to their usual chatter, despite Draco’s protests.

“What were you doing up at three in the morning?” Harry asks.

“Oh,” Holly says. “Hm, nothing much. Same as usual. I do my best work in the middle of the night. Just Charms stuff.”

“Charms stuff?” Harry asks skeptically.

“Yeah, Charms, you know, wave your wand and enchant an object to dance or something. Stuff like that.”

“I know what Charms is,” Harry says.

Holly shrugs. “Just checking. I couldn’t be sure. Anyways, why do you ask?”

“Well, when I was heading back to the common room after my detention with Lockhart, I heard someone talking but there was no one there. I thought you might have been messing with me,” Harry explains.

“I thought you said you had fallen asleep?” Draco asks.

“I _thought_ I had, but then when I was sleeping in the common room Holly woke me up, so I thought she was messing with me before with the voices,” Harry says.

“What were these voices saying?” Holly asks.

“Um…” Harry says. “It wanted to… it was saying it wanted to kill something. Rip, tear, and kill, basically.”

His friends all raise their eyebrows at him.

“That’s…” Hermione says, and then trails off.

“Terrifying?” Ron supplies.”

“Yeah… that,” Hermione says.

“And you’re _sure_ you weren’t asleep?” Holly asks, concern overtaking her expression.

Harry hesitates. “I mean, I could have been. I heard it twice though, in Lockhart’s office and in the halls, and it sounded so _clear_ in the halls.”

“Maybe you were just sleeping,” Pansy says. “You did say that all you had been doing for four hours was helping Lockhart answer his fan mail. You have to admit that could make someone go a bit insane, or, at least enough to make them think they’re hearing voices.”

“Let’s hope he was asleep,” Holly says.

~*~

October brings with it pouring rain and even more stressful Quidditch practices for Harry and Draco. The upcoming match between Slytherin and Gryffindor is making Marcus work the team even harder than before, something neither Harry nor Draco thought was possible. The only way anyone on the team can get any time to even do any of their work is in the few instances when Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Team Captain, gets McGonagall to sign the field out to the Gryffindor team. It takes no small amount of begging to get Marcus to agree to give the Halloween off from practice.

Harry seriously considers staying in his dorm to get some sleep instead of going to the feast, but the thought of missing out on the celebrations makes him decide to join the rest of his house on their way up to the Great Hall.

“Ack, what is that smell?” Harry asks his friends as they walk through the dungeon halls as they head up to the feast.

“I don’t know,” Pansy says, pulling her robes up over her face in an attempt to block out the smell.

“I haven’t smelled something that bad since the troll last year,” Draco says, and then he dissolves into a gagging fit.

Blaise shudders. “Please don’t tell me a troll finding its way into the dungeons is a yearly tradition here.”

“It’s stronger down this way,” Harry says. He pulls his robes over his mouth and nose just like Pansy had, and then turns down the corridor he had indicated.

“What are you _doing_?” Draco demands. “Why are you going there if the smell is _stronger_?”

“Don’t you want to see what it is?” Harry asks, continuing down the corridor.

“Not really!” Draco replies, although he, Blaise, Pansy, Greg, Vince, Theo, and Millicent all follow along behind Harry.

Every last one of them has to struggle not to gag at the foul smell as they walk down the corridor in search of the source. As they continue on, a horrible screeching sound like nails on a chalkboard joins the smell, and they all raise their shoulders up towards the ears as if it will keep them from having to listen to the racket. At last, they find a room from which the stench and screeching is no doubt emanating, and upon looking inside, they realize why it smells so bad: tables full of rotten food line every wall. Upon closer inspection, they find the source of the horrific noise as well, which is a band of ghosts set up on a makeshift stage towards the back of the room playing what appears to be saws. A banner hangs over the stage reading ‘ _Happy Five-Hundredth Deathday, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington_ ’ and even more ghosts float throughout the room doing what appears to be a kind of waltz.

“A _deathday party_?” Pansy asks incredulously, her voice slightly muffled through the fabric of her robes.

“That’s a bit cynical…” Blaise says.

“Come on, we know what it is now, so let’s get out of here. I don’t think I can stand it any longer,” Draco says.

Before they can leave, however, there is a painful sounding wail and one of the ghosts rushes through them, passing straight through Harry and making him shiver both in disgust and from the cold.

“ _Spotty! Spotty, ugly, Myrtle!_ ” Peeves the Poltergeist bellows out, following the wailing ghost from the room as he launches moldy peanuts at it.

“That must have been Moaning Myrtle,” Millicent says as they follow the ghost and poltergeist away from the so-called ‘party’.

“Moaning Myrtle?” Harry asks.

“She haunts one of the girls’ toilets,” Pansy answers. “I try not to use it; it’s a nightmare trying to pee and having a ghost fly up through the toilet and start screeching at you for using one of her toilets.”

Harry’s eyes widen. “That’s horrifying.”

“Yeah, trust me,” Millicent says. “It’s not my fault she can’t just pick one toilet and stick with it.”

Once they make it a decent enough distance away from the deathday party that they don’t have to struggle to breathe, Harry releases his robes from around his face. He’s about to suggest they hurry up so they don’t get stuck with all of the food no one wants, when something catches his attention.

“… _rip… tear… kill…_ ”

“Did you hear that?” Harry asks, stopping in his tracks, and everyone falls silent.

“… _so hungry… for so long…_ ”

“There it is again!” Harry exclaims, but his friends all look at him with varying degrees of concern and confusion.

“There what is?” Draco asks.

Harry takes off down the corridor in the direction that he heard the voice travelling. “It’s the same voice as I heard before!” he shouts over his shoulder.

“… _kill… time to kill…_ ”

“It’s heading upstairs!”

Harry dashes upstairs, his friends following him despite their obvious confusion, until they end up in the Entrance Hall where he tells them all to be quiet. Just underneath the sounds of the feast flooding out of the Great Hall, Harry hears it again.

“… _I smell blood… I SMELL BLOOD!_ ”

“This way! I think it’s going to kill!” Harry says, and he races up to the second floor, where he stops upon seeing the floor covered in water.

“Harry…” Pansy says cautiously. “What’s going on?”

Harry continues down the corridor, slowly, the water splashing up around his ankles. “I heard that voice again. The one I heard the night of my detention. I promise you, I’m not asleep this time either. Don’t you hear it?”

His friends all exchange strange and guarded looks with each other.

“Harry, we didn’t hear anything…” says Draco.

“It’s probably just Moaning Myrtle crying. This _is_ the corridor her bathroom is in. That’s probably where all the water came from. She’s probably flooded the bathroom again because Peeves upset her,” Pansy says.

“But… the voice!” Harry says, frustrated that none of them seem to believe him.

He looks behind him to see that they all are standing at the end of the corridor, refusing to follow him through the inch of water coating the floor. He huffs out an angry breath and continues on, until he turns the corner and freezes.

“Okay, I promise I’m not crazy!” he calls. “You really should come see this!”

Slowly, hesitantly, they all make their way over to where Harry stands, and then they too freeze and gasp in horror.

Written on the wall in something red and dripping, each letter about a foot high, is a message.

_The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware._

“Let’s go,” Pansy demands, but Harry doesn’t listen. Instead, he steps closer to the message and for the second time that night finds himself gagging.

“It’s written in blood,” he says.”

“Harry, we should really go. We need to find a teacher,” Pansy says.

Harry looks around some more, ignoring Pansy, and becomes intrigued by something hanging from one of the torches on the wall, dripping onto the floor. Only when he is close enough to touch it does he realize that it is Mrs. Norris, hanging by her tail from the torch bracket.

“Harry, come _on_ , we need to _leave_ ,” Draco says, grabbing Harry’s arm this time and attempting to drag him away, but it’s too late. Draco turns around and runs straight into Professor McGonagall, who does nothing except stare at the bloody letters on the wall.

The feast must have just ended, Harry realizes, because the corridor is now full of students and staff members, and Mr. Filch is pushing his way through the gathered crowd, shouting “What’s going on here? What’s going on?”

Harry bites his lip. He should have listened and just left. This can _not_ look good for him _at all_.

“My cat!” Mr. Filch bellows, falling to his knees below Mrs. Norris. “My cat! What have you _done_?”

The sound of Mr. Filch’s cries is so painful that Harry’s own eyes start watering.

“I didn’t do anything,” Harry mumbles, but no one seems to hear him.

Dumbledore pushes through the crowd just then and takes a moment to read the message on the wall before he steps over to Filch and gently extricates Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket.

“She’s not dead, Argus,” Dumbledore says after a moment, his gentle tone barely audible over Filch’s pained sobs. “She’s only petrified.”

“ _Only petrified_?” Filch sobs.

“Yes. She can be cured,” Dumbledore says. “Professor Sprout already has a healthy growth of mandrake root. Once they have fully matured, Mrs. Norris can be cured.”

Filch sniffles and wipes his nose on his sleeve. “She can be cured,” he says, as if assuring himself.

Harry sighs in relief, but that seems to be a mistake as Filch suddenly rounds on him, the sound seemingly reminding him of Harry’s presence.

“You’re going to pay for this, boy!” he shouts. “How dare you petrify my cat! What has Mrs. Norris ever done to you?”

Harry shakes his head and backs away, running straight into Draco. “I didn’t do anything, I swear!”

“You were here before anyone else! You petrified my cat! Why did you petrify my cat? You will _pay_!”

“Argus,” Dumbledore says, still calm and collected. “Argus, I do not believe Harry has petrified Mrs. Norris.”

“If I may,” Snape says, suddenly joining the small gathering closest to the crime scene. “Perhaps, Mr. Potter is merely in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Yes!” Harry says, glad for the excuse, even if it is coming from Snape. “Yes, that’s exactly it!”

“Then again, I do not recall seeing you at the feast…” Snape continues, fixing Harry with a questioning glare.

Draco cuts in. “We were on our way there when Harry said he heard something!” he says. “We all followed him up here where we found the water on the floor and that writing on the wall and Mrs. Norris. It was all here when we got here.”

“You heard something, Harry?” Dumbledore asks.

Harry hesitates before answering, not quite sure how much he wants to divulge. “Yes, um, I heard someone crying. It was rather loud. Pansy was just telling me it was probably Moaning Myrtle when I saw Mrs. Norris hanging there. I didn’t hurt anyone, I promise.”

Dumbledore stares at Harry for a moment, looking carefully at him over his half-moon spectacles, before he seems to be satisfied.

“Very well,” Dumbledore says, and then he looks up to address the gathered students. “Everyone, please report back to your dormitories. I don’t want to catch anyone out of bed tonight. No dilly-dallying.”

Harry feels numb as he walks back to the Slytherin dormitories. He had heard a voice. He had heard _something_ say it wanted to kill… and then Mrs. Norris was petrified. Not to mention the writing on that wall. What could the Chamber of Secrets possibly be? And what Heir was it talking about?

He doesn’t sleep when he falls into his bed, only barely managing to struggle into his pajamas beforehand. His mind is too full with his swirling thoughts. Should he have told Dumbledore the truth about the voice? What did it mean that only he could hear it?

Harry can’t help but to feel guilty for his lie, and it keeps him awake through the entire night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hilo!
> 
> Sorry this is being posted so late in the day. I had my AP test today, and then I was trying to finish up chapter 10 for a double update, but I ended up not finishing it, so there’s only one chapter today.
> 
> Quite a bit happened this chapter, what with the Chamber officially being opened and Harry hearing the voices. Let me know in the comments what you thought about it all! I love to hear from you and I reply to all comments!
> 
> Please, leave kudos, I am extremely grateful for every single one, and don’t forget to subscribe to be notified when new chapters are posted! Updates are every Wednesday.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!  
> -2MusicLover2


	10. He’s Not the Heir

The Chamber of Secrets is all anyone can talk about the next day. Rumors regarding the Chamber are traded amongst the students, whispered back and forth only when the students are sure no staff members are paying attention; traded like goods on the black market. The second year Slytherins quickly find themselves at the center of it all when it becomes common knowledge that they were the ones to find the writing and Mrs. Norris, and, in order to avoid everyone as much as possible, they spend all of Sunday hidden away in their dorms.

Unfortunately, they have to go to their classes on Monday, and their last class that day is double Herbology with Ravenclaw.

On their way out the front doors of the castle and across the grounds to the greenhouses, the Slytherins all refuse to go anywhere near the Ravenclaw students. Every time one of them tries to approach the Slytherins, they end up having to jump quickly out of the way from a hex or jinx that is cast in such a way that it is impossible to tell which Slytherin cast it. By the time everyone is entering the greenhouse, two Ravenclaws can’t stop dancing a rather complicated jig that Harry is sure would be impossible to dance without the jinx having been placed on them, one Ravenclaw has to be supported by their friends in order to stand, and another is suffering from a rather harsh Bat-Bogey Hex.

“What is all this?” Professor Sprout asks when they walk in.

None of the Slytherins move to give any sort of answer, and when Michael Corner, one of the Ravenclaw boys who is unable to stop dancing, opens his mouth to explain it to Professor Sprout, Blaise sends him a truly terrifying glare that makes him close his mouth and grimace at his legs.

Professor Sprout luckily doesn’t notice the look from Blaise, and merely frowns as she makes quick work of undoing the minor damage the Slytherins had caused.

“Whatever happened, it better not happen again, or I’ll take fifty points from both your houses and be done with it,” she says, but Harry can’t really find it in himself to take it as a threat if Ravenclaw would also be losing those points.

“Now, today we will be doing some more work with the Mandrakes. Don’t look at me like that, they don’t need repotting again, only a bit of extra food to make sure they’re healthy and that they’ll be able to revive Mrs. Norris. All you’re going to do is take a nice handful of this, here, and sprinkle it over the dirt. No need to mix it in, I’ll have the fifth years do that; don’t want you accidentally getting your fingers bit off by an angry Mandrake. Right, then, everyone take a tray and get to work!”

The class goes okay, mostly, if Harry and his friends just ignore the looks that the Ravenclaws send their way then its just like any other day and like nothing had happened over the weekend. It’s really, really hard to ignore it, though, and Harry quickly becomes frustrated.

“Don’t,” Pansy warns him with a stern look, and somehow the unvoiced threat of her hexing him is enough to make Harry keep his mouth closed until the end of class.

The silence of the Slytherins is enough to allow the muttering a of the Ravenclaws travel easily throughout the greenhouse, however, and Harry is thankful that Professor Sprout isn’t completely oblivious to it as some of the other professors might have been.

“I suggest,” she announces to the class, “that you all learn solid facts before you go around spreading rumors. This kind of misinformation will do no one any good.”

“Who do you think will know about the Chamber, Professor?” a Ravenclaw girl asks eagerly, and Professor Sprout fixes them all with a stern look.

“If I hear any more gossip about this from any of you, it will mean trouble for you,” she says, but none of the Ravenclaws seem any less interested. “Oh, all right. Professor Binns would probably be your best bet on any historical significance regarding the Chamber of Secrets; it is his subject after all.”

Luckily for Harry, this possibility of more information is enough to keep at least the Ravenclaws from attempting to approach him for the rest of that night, and he makes it throughout dinner without any kind of mishap.

That is, until Theodore comes into the Great Hall looking extremely harassed and frazzled, and Blaise has rescue him with a couple of Stinging Hexes and Jelly-Legs Jinxes.

“Why is _everyone_ in so obsessed with trying to talk to us right now?” Harry groans as Blaise and Theo sit down across from him.

“They all want to know about the Chamber of Secrets,” Holly says with a roll of her eyes as if it’s obvious, and Harry finds himself wondering if she has an invisibility cloak of her own that she uses to spy on them and listen to their conversations just to pop up when she thinks something is interesting. It sure would explain a lot.

“I have to agree with them!” Harry exclaims. “What _is_ the Chamber of Secrets? And why does everyone think we know about it?”

Holly pouts her lips and pats Harry on the head pityingly. “Oh, you poor, unaware, little boy. Did none of you ever tell him anything?” she asks his friends sitting around them.

Harry glares at her, and Draco shrugs.

“We mostly just forget he doesn’t know and then tell him when it eventually comes up,” Blaise says.

“It doesn’t matter if Harry knows, anyways,” Hermione says. “It’s just a myth. No one has ever found any proof of the Chamber of Secrets existence.”

“That’s the whole _point_ of a secret chamber only the Heir of Slytherin can open, is it not?” Holly points out with another roll of her eyes.

“What is going on?” Harry asks. “What is the Chamber of Secrets and who is the Heir of Slytherin?

Holly grins. “Well, according to basically everyone in this school, _you_ are the Heir of Slytherin.”

“No,” Draco says as he shakes his head vehemently. “He’s not the Heir.”

“Yes, _I_ know that,” Holly says. “I’m just saying what everyone _else_ thinks. I mean, if anyone _really_ knew who the Heir was, they’d be expelled in a heartbeat if the Chamber really has been opened. The whole legend is that Slytherin got pissed about the other founders allowing witches and wizards other than just Purebloods into the school, so he made a secret chamber in which he left a monster or something that only his descendants could control then up and left, but not until after he started the whole centuries-long Gryffindor versus Slytherin feud. If the Chamber’s been opened, then the Heir is trying to purge the school of Mudbloods like Slytherin wanted—no offense Hermione.”

Hermione narrows her eyes at Holly. “You could have just said ‘Muggleborns,’ you know.”

“Yes, well…” Holly shrugs.

“Wait, wait, wait,” says Harry. “You mean to tell me… there’s a _monster_ hidden somewhere in this castle, and it’s only here to be brought out and used to _kill students_?”

“Pretty much,” Blaise says.

“And the founder of our house put it there?” Harry asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Draco replies.

“And no one bothered to tell me this… _why_?”

The Slytherins all exchange looks with each other, and Hermione purses her lips.

“You knew about this, too, didn’t you?” Harry asks her.

“…Yes…” she answers after a moment.

“Harry, mate, I knew just as much about this as you did,” Ron says, patting Harry on the shoulder.

Harry narrows his eyes at him.

“Okay, well, maybe I had heard Fred and George mention it once or twice… but I swear I didn’t know anything about the legend!”

Harry pushes his plate away from him and buries his head in his arms on the table. “I can’t believe that whole school thinks I’m trying to kill Muggleborns,” he groans, the sound muffled in his arms, then he picks his head back up. “They do know I’m friends with Hermione, don’t they? I could never do anything to Hermione!”

“This just goes to show how much the other houses like to vilify Slytherin,” Holly says knowingly. “Just because you were one of the first ones there when Mrs. Norris was petrified, they all think you were the one to do it.”

~*~

Hermione refuses to believe that the Chamber of Secrets has truly been opened, and she tells anyone who will listen as much throughout the week. Potions class on Wednesday morning is filled with her loudly declaring that she does not understand why the rest of her house is either avoiding the Slytherins or trying to curse them, as the Chamber is only a legend and the chances of it actually existing, let alone it being opened, are little to none.

“As much as I and the students in my house… appreciate… your faith, Miss Granger,” Snape says at the end of class, and it looks to Harry as though it is physically paining him to say it. “I do not believe that the word of a twelve-year-old girl will be enough to erase centuries worth of spite between Slytherin house and the rest of the school, so, kindly, shut up.”

Hermione leaves the classroom furious, storming up to the Great Hall for lunch with steam practically pouring from her ears in her rage.

“It’s not like I’m _asking_ for any gratitude!” she fumes as they sit down at the Slytherin table. “I’m not saying this to fix Slytherin’s record or anything! I’m just giving everyone the facts! I don’t care whether anyone _appreciates_ it or not! And it definitely isn’t _faith_ in Slytherins! Half of the house is vile and cruel and despicable—” several Slytherins around them sneer at her, although she doesn’t seem to notice and continues on without any pause “—but that’s just the same as every other house! The world isn’t divided into good versus evil and all the evil ones aren’t just thrown in Slytherin while everyone else gets to be divided up between the rest of the houses! For Merlin’s sake, Merlin _himself_ was in Slytherin and no one’s going around calling him the Devil incarnate! I’m not going around preaching for everyone to have forgiveness, though, either! All I’m saying is that I don’t think the Chamber even exists, so it being opened is out of the question! Ugh!”

Harry, Ron, and Draco all look at each other with wide eyes as Hermione stabs her fork particularly violently through a potato and it flies off her plate to land in her lap.

“Hermione…” Pansy says cautiously as she and Millicent sit down on either side of Hermione. “Are you okay?”

“Yes! I am absolutely fine,” Hermione snaps, and Pansy purses her lips.

“You just seem a little, er, tense,” Millicent says.

Hermione shakes her head. “Nope, not tense. Just tired of people.”

Pansy nods her head agreeingly. “I don’t think I’ve ever agreed with you so much before now.”

“I’ll prove it,” Hermione starts muttering to her Shepard’s Pie, completely oblivious to anything else around her except for her now much more subdued rant. “The Chamber of Secrets is just a myth, nothing more. There’s no _proof_. Everyone is so worked up over _nothing_.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s nothing,” a melodic voice says from behind Harry, and everyone in their little group jumps in their seats. Harry smiles at Luna as he and Draco slide down the bench away from each other to make room for her between them. “Just because you have yet to find proof of something, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. The Muggles have no proof of unicorns or dragons, but we all know those exist.”

Hermione scowls at Luna, but doesn’t say anything as both Harry and Draco glare at her with murder in their eyes as soon as she opens her mouth.

“Daddy and I are working on a way to help us see nargles, everyone really should become more aware of them. Quite dangerous they are, flying in your ears and making your brain go all fuzzy. I couldn’t imagine having that happen to me,” Luna says, suddenly becoming very solemn, her wide eyes going even wider with something akin to fear.

“I’ve never heard of nargles before,” Hermione says tersely, but then continues talking before Luna can go into detail about them. “You believe in the Chamber of Secrets, then? What do you suppose is hidden away in there, waiting to kill all of the Muggleborns? Who do you think is trying to unleash it? Harry?”

Luna frowns, something Harry’s not sure he’s ever seen her do. “Of course I don’t think it’s Harry. He’s much too nice to do anything like that. I came over here to apologize to him for the behavior of my house, after all,” she says, then she turns to face Harry completely, giving him her full attention. “I truly am sorry, Harry. I keep telling them that you’re not the Heir. I think some of them believe me, but I’m not so sure about the others. They’ll come around eventually, though, don’t you worry.”

“Thanks, Luna,” Harry says with a grin. He’s not exactly sure that he’s that worried about his reputation, but it’s sweet of Luna to be worried for him.

“You’re welcome,” she replies, a grin of her own overtaking the very serious expression she normally holds. “I must get going, now. I want to talk to Professor Flitwick before Charms. He promised to look over the article I’m writing for _The Quibbler_ on various mending charms and how they might interact with Muggle appliances.”

Hermione’s face screws up in a strange mixture of interest and distaste as Luna stands back up, pats both Harry and Draco on the head once, and leaves.

“She could be so brilliant but she wastes it all on nonsense,” Hermione laments.

“I don’t know, I think some might consider that article pretty useful,” says Draco. “I would’ve thought you would have been one of those people.”

“Yes, well.” Hermione puffs out her cheeks and then expels the air in a quick breath. “She might at least have the right idea about talking to a professor, though. I’m going to ask Binns about the Chamber of Secrets in History of Magic this afternoon. You have it just before dinner, don’t you? You should do the same. It might help put an end to those nasty rumors about it being opened.”

~*~

Harry reluctantly puts his hand up at the beginning of History of Magic that afternoon and patiently waits for Professor Binns to call on him, but the ghost only has eyes for the thick book in front of him.

After several long minutes of the rest of the class staring at Harry as his arm gradually gets tired, he decides he must take drastic measures to get Binns’ attention, and he pushes his textbook off the edge of his desk causing it to land on the floor with a bang.

Somehow, Professor Binns doesn’t notice.

“Excuse me, Professor?” Harry calls, but the ghost just keeps droning on about some historical event that Harry can’t even bother to pay attention to because he doubts it will have any kind of affect on his current predicament.

With a great sigh, Harry stands up from his seat, ignoring the stares of his housemates as he walks up to the front of the classroom and pulls the textbook away from Professor Binns, finally gaining his attention.

“Mister Perry, I’m afraid that’ll be five points from Hufflepuff house,” Professor Binns said, his voice just as monotone as normal.

Harry huffs. “It’s Potter, not Perry, and I’m in Ravenclaw,” he says, figuring if Binns is going to take away points from the wrong house then he might as well get them taken away from the ones who are bothering Harry in the first place.

“Five points from Ravenclaw, then. What is it you want, Mister Prater?”

“Potter, sir,” Harry corrects. “I want to ask you what you know about the Chamber of Secrets. I figured you would be the best professor to ask, as you study history and such.”

“ _History_ , Packer. I study _history_ and _facts_ , neither of which go along with the so-called Chamber of Secrets. It is simply a myth, nothing more,” Professor Binns says.

“Well, what does the myth say about the Chamber?” Harry asks, but Binns just stares at him blankly. “Please, Professor? They do say that myths and legends are based in facts.”

“Why all this sudden interest?” Binns mutters under his breath, barely loud enough for Harry to catch watch he is saying. Then, he finally sighs heavily, as if making it clear that he really does not want to answer anything, and starts talking. “Alright. Well, as you know, the four founders of Hogwarts founded this school to teach young witches and wizards how to control their magic. This and the names of the founders are about the only things we know for certain. Everything else is just speculation and rumors. According to most, Salazar Slytherin ended up deciding that only those he deemed worthy of magic, the ones who have had it passed down in their families for generations, should be allowed to study at the school. It is said that this caused an argument between Salazar and the rest of the founders, mainly Godric Gryffindor, that resulted in Salazar leaving the school. Before leaving, however, it is rumored that Slytherin built a chamber into the room in which he left a monster which would one day do as he wished and purge the school of anyone not worthy in his eyes. No one has yet to find any sign of this chamber or a monster, despite the school having been scoured for it on multiple occasions.

“Now, this is all just speculation and hearsay. I doubt any of it is actually true, and I do not want to hear of any of you spreading it around the school. If we could please return to learning about _facts_ now…?”

Harry nods, pleased with this information despite Binns’ assurance that it is false, and sits back down in his seat. He is too busy thinking back over his new knowledge to pay any attention to whatever topic Professor Binns is currently trying to teach them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> Sorry there wasn’t a new chapter last week. I’ve been without internet for the past week and so I didn’t get to update or work on chapter 11. Chapter 11 will be up by Friday, though, so there will be two chapters this week. After that we’ll be back on the regular schedule of new chapters every Wednesday.
> 
> Luna made an appearance this chapter! She’ll also be in the next chapter for an even longer scene. I have some ideas for her, and she’s going to become a very important character, I’m just not sure which book it will happen in...
> 
> As always, kudos are appreciated and I reply to all comments! Make sure to subscribe to get notified when I post the next chapter!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!  
> -2MusicLover2


	11. The Slytherin-Gryffindor Feud

Hermione is insufferable that evening at dinner.

“I _told_ you _all_ ,” she says as she, Ron, Draco, and Harry sit down at the Gryffindor table together. “I _told_ you the Chamber doesn’t exist, but nooo, you didn’t believe me. Believe me now, do you?”

Harry sighs heavily and hangs his head in exasperation as he fills his plate with food, only looking up at Hermione when his neck starts to ache. “Definitely. I totally believe you now.” It’s a complete and utter lie, but what Hermione doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

Draco opens his mouth, clearly about to contradict Harry, before Harry kicks him underneath the table, causing Draco to let out a yelp instead of whatever he was about to say.

“Don’t argue,” Harry hisses under his breath as Draco glares at him.

“I was just going to say that I was on Hermione’s side all along, Merlin, Harry,” Draco says, rubbing his shin where Harry had kicked him.

Hermione turns a deadly glare onto Harry. “If you don’t believe me, don’t lie about it. I want to know if I still have to work to prove you wrong.”

“Okay, fine, I don’t still don’t completely believe it,” Harry says. “I guess I just have a hard time believing that just because no one has found a _hidden_ chamber that _only the Heir of Slytherin_ can open, that automatically must mean it doesn’t exist. It’s locked and hidden, of course no one can get to it.”

“There is not a single spell in existence that would make it so that only Slytherin’s Heir could find and enter the Chamber of Secrets, therefore it would have been found if it _existed_ , but it _hasn’t_ so it _isn’t real_ ,” Hermione argues.

“Er… I would just like to point out that blood magic is a real thing and it exists,” Draco interjects.

Hermione scowls at him. “I thought you said you were on my side?”

“Well… I mean…”

“Ugh! Fine. Fine. You can go ahead and run around the school trying to find this so-called Chamber of Secrets, but you won’t get any help from me,” Hermione declares.

“Actually,” Draco says, “I kind of agree that we shouldn’t go looking for the Chamber.”

“What?! Why?” Harry asks.

Draco shrugs. “Everyone already thinks that it’s a Slytherin in our year that is the Heir. Looking for the Chamber would only encourage everyone to think that, and I’m pretty sure that that _won’t_ be something we want people to think.”

“Really? You were okay with going to the _forbidden_ third-floor corridor last year, but now you won’t come with me to search for a chamber that might not even exist?” Harry asks, pouting over his untouched dinner plate with his arms crossed. “What about you, Ron?”

Ron’s eyes widen and he seems to shrink into himself. “I was happier when I was being left out of this conversation,” he mumbles.

“Besides,” Draco interjects. “We’ve barely got enough time to be doing anything as it is, what with Quidditch practice everyday and our first match coming up.”

“Speaking of,” says a voice behind Harry, and Harry had thought that sitting at the Gryffindor table would keep them from constantly being intruded on, but it seems that Fred and George Weasley are the Holly’s of Gryffindor.

“We are _so_ going to beat you this year,” the other twin—Fred—says.

Draco scoffs. “Same team as last year, yeah? You’re going to lose even worse than last year.”

“No, we’re not,” George says, then he makes up a little dance and singsongs, “we have a secret weapon!”

Fred flicks his brother in the ear. “They’re not supposed to know about that. It’s _secret_.”

“Oh, right. Oops,” George says with a smile. “It’s just so hard to keep quiet about it. What was Wood thinking entrusting _us_ with a secret?”

“Come on.” Fred rolls his eyes and grabs George’s arm to pull him away.

“What was that about? Do _you_ know what they’re talking about?” Draco asks Hermione and Ron.

Hermione shakes her head.

“To be honest, it’s probably just them trying to freak you guys out before a match. I assure you that they are perfectly capable of keeping secrets. They’re not as stupid as they act. Honestly, they’re pretty much just like Holly,” Ron says.

“I was just thinking that earlier,” Harry says. “I hope they never end up meeting each other. That would be terrifying.”

Hermione’s eyes widen in fear. “I do _not_ want to see what kind of damage they could inflict on this school.”

~*~

News of the Gryffindor team’s secret weapon quickly spreads throughout the school, and that, added on to the rumors of the Heir of Slytherin opening the Chamber of Secrets, causes tensions amongst the students to run even higher than usual. Duals break out in the halls, some of which escalate into full on fistfights before the staff can arrive to break them apart. Most of these skirmishes are between Slytherins and Gryffindors, but occasionally the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs can be seen joining in on the action.

Unfortunately for Harry and Draco, the two of them are targeted perhaps the most frequently out of anyone as not only are they part of the group of Slytherin second years who had been caught at the scene of Mrs. Norris’ petrification, but they are also on the Slytherin Quidditch Team, which the other students seem to be attacking in the hopes that they will incapacitate the entire team and cause them to forfeit the match.

The night before the match, the Slytherin team is ambushed on the way back to the castle from their practice.

“Do we have to do this now?” asks Adrian Pucey, who Harry strongly believes is the most unproblematic person in Slytherin. Like, seriously. He’s never committed a foul when playing quidditch and Harry has never seen him throw a curse before. “I’ve got a game tomorrow and I’d like to get some sleep first.”

Adrian is the first to go down as he gets hit by a rather nasty jinx that immediately has him puking up slugs. After that, it’s a free-for-all with curses, jinxes, and hexes being thrown in every direction.

Professor Lockhart, oddly enough, is the one who finally arrives to put an end to the madness.

“Hey, now! None of that!” he calls across the grounds as he walks out the front doors of the castle. “Come on, I said no more fighting, this isn’t the way to act before a big school event!”

Somehow, he manages to get everyone to stop fighting by the time he makes it to them; granted, he wasn’t exactly _rushing_ to them, either.

“What’s the meaning of this, Harry?” Lockhart asks, and it’s just Harry’s luck that _he’s_ the one Lockhart notices in the group of about twenty students.

“I didn’t start this fight, if that’s what you’re asking,” Harry says.

Lockhart gives them all an easy smile. “Of course not, Harry! I would never insinuate that! I was merely asking you who _is_ responsible.”

The group of students who had first surrounded the Slytherins all point towards Adrian, who throws up another batch of slugs.

“What, cursed himself, did he?” Marcus sneers.

“Professor, it wasn’t Adrian that started this,” Draco says.

“My dear boy, I’m not quite sure who to believe on this matter,” Lockhart says with a disgusted look at the growing pile of slugs at Adrian’s feet.

“Don’t punish any of us then,” a Hufflepuff student suggests.

“Yeah, let’s just forget about this whole matter,” says a Gryffindor student.

Harry figures it’s the only way to get out of any kind of punishment, so he exclaims, “Definitely! There’s no one truly at fault here, so let’s just forget about it all and call it a day!”

“I’m not sure this is really the way to be going about this…” Lockhart says, but every student involved has already latched onto the idea and is now talking over each other to try and get Lockhart to agree. “Oh, alright, I guess there’s nothing wrong with just forgetting about this matter. Don’t let me catching any of you fighting any more, though. Now, how about I fix you all up before you head back into the castle?”

“No!” the entire group exclaims in unison, even Adrian, although he immediately doubles over to spew some more slugs from his mouth.

“Are you sure? I’m quite handy with counter—”

“Yes! We’re positive!” says a Ravenclaw with a wide-eyed expression of fear.

“I really think—”

“There’s no need, Professor. It’ll be better practice for us to do it ourselves, won’t it? A nice little lesson for us. Think of it as you teaching us a lesson for fighting,” Draco says, and Harry is thankful for his best friend’s ability to get them out of challenging situations with a bit of almost-logical thinking.

“Alright. No more fighting then, the lot of you,” Lockhart says, before throwing them all a wink and heading back into the castle.

The group of students all stand there, looking around awkwardly for a moment before they all start curing themselves of their various ailments and slowly make their way inside.

~*~

Adrian is still looking a little sickly as the team sits in the Slytherin locker room eating their breakfast and discussing strategy before the game, although he is no longer puking up slugs.

“Harry, I don’t want you to catch the snitch until we’re at least a hundred and fifty points up, okay? If Gryffindor’s Seeker is going after it, do whatever you can to stop them from catching it, but don’t catch it yourself,” Marcus says.

Harry nods his head, chewing on a mouthful of toast. “Got it,” he says after he swallows enough to speak.

Having caught the snitch more than Draco in their practices, Harry is the official Slytherin Seeker for this match. Draco accepted this and said he would be happy to cheer on the team from the stands with the rest of their housemates, although he promised Harry that he would make sure he got his turn as Seeker in the next match.

By the time the team is finishing up going over their strategy for the game and eating, Madame Hooch comes in to inform them that it’s time and they head out onto the field to get into position around Madame Hooch and the chest of balls as they face the Gryffindor team. Harry mounts his broom and gets into position to take off when he looks directly in front of him at Gryffindor’s Seeker… and his mouth falls open in shock.

Dressed in robes of red and gold, with long red hair tied back in a high ponytail, is none other than Ginny Weasley.

Harry scrambles to get a handle on his shock and take off as Madame Hooch blows her whistle, releasing the bludgers and the snitch.

“AND THEY’RE OFF!” echoes the voice of Lee Jordan, Fred and George Weasley’s best friend who is in charge of commentating at the Quidditch matches. “GRYFFINDOR STARTS OFF WITH THE QUAFFLE, CHASER KATIE BELL PASSING IT TO ALICIA SPINNET—GRAHAM MONTAGUE OF SLYTHERIN STEALS IT IN AN ADMITTEDLY SOMEWHAT DECENT MOVE—HE’S HALFWAY ACROSS THE FIELD NOW—COME ON, WOOD—UNFORTUNATELY, SLYTHERIN SCORES—”

“How many times have I told you to be unbiased, Jordan?” Harry hears Professor McGonagall exclaim.

“SORRY ABOUT THAT, PROFESSOR—ANGELINA JOHNSON IS BACK WITH THE QUAFFLE AND—OH, IT LOOKS LIKE MARCUS FLINT, SLYTHERIN’S CHASER AND CAPTAIN IS DOWN FOR THE COUNT—NICE AIM FRED—GEORGE—NOT SURE—EITHER WAY, THE WEASLEY TWINS HAVE GOT NICE AIM—SPEAKING OF THE WEASLEY’S, GINNY WEASLEY IS NOW GRYFFINDOR TEAM’S SEEKER, MAKING HER THE YOUNGEST QUIDDITCH PLAYED IN ABOUT A CENTURY—IF SHE’S ANYTHING LIKE HER BROTHER CHARLIE THEN SHE CAN HOPEFULLY BRING GRYFFINDOR OUT OF IT’S LOSING STREAK—”

“The GAME, Jordan!” McGonagall shouts.

“JUST INFORMING THE CROWD, PROFESSOR—ANYWAYS, SLYTHERIN CHASER ADRIAN PUCEY HAS THE QUAFFLE—I HAVE BEEN INFORMED THAT HE WAS SUFFERING FROM A SLUG-EATING CURSE LAST NIGHT—”

“JORDAN!”

“RIGHT—SLYTHERIN HAS SCORED AGAIN—THE SCORE CURRENTLY STANDS AT SLYTHERIN TWENTY, GRYFFINDOR ZERO—”

Harry decides to tune out the commentary for a while as he sits on his broom way up above where the rest of the game is playing out, high enough that he can watch the game, keep an eye out for the snitch, and make sure Ginny doesn’t catch the snitch.

Slytherin scores three more goals before Gryffindor manages to score, putting Slytherin at forty points ahead the first time Harry catches sight of the snitch. Not wanting Ginny to see it and catch it, he darts in the opposite direction, hoping that Ginny will see and follow him, but when he turns around to check that she’s following him, his arm suddenly jolts with pain starting at his wrist and shooting all the way up to his shoulder.

“—SLYTHERIN SEEKER HARRY POTTER HAS JUST BEEN HIT WITH A BLUDGER, BUT HE’S MANAGED TO STAY ON HIS BROOM—I’M NOT SURE WHO HIT IT BUT—IT’S COMING BACK FOR HIM NOW AND—OH, HE’S DUCKED JUST IN TIME—GOOD THING TOO, THAT WAS HEADING STRAIGHT FOR HIS HEAD AND—IT’S FOLLOWING HIM NOW—I THINK THAT BLUDGER’S BEEN TAMPERED WITH!”

_Tampered with_ seems like an understatement to Harry as he finds himself having to make a number of extremely dangerous maneuvers to keep the Bludger from hitting him again. He is pretty sure his left arm is broken, but he doesn’t want to even _think_ about attempting to have Draco take his place on the field as the Bludger is _still_ following closely behind him.

“Harry! The snitch! She’s gonna get it!” one of the beater’s shouts at him as they attempt to hit the rogue Bludger away from him, but it arches and comes back towards him as if the bat was just a minor annoyance keeping it away from it’s target.

As he makes a sharp turn, thankful for Mr. Malfoy’s generous donation of brand new Nimbus 2001’s for the entire Slytherin team, Harry quickly scans the field until his eyes find Ginny making a sharp dive towards the field, and, sure enough, the snitch glints in front of her.

Harry urges his broom to go faster so he can catch up to Ginny and knock her off course—Slytherin is only sixty points ahead—and he’s almost made it to her when his broom gets jerks to the side and he goes flying through the air. He opens his mouth to scream, but he’s already on the ground before he can manage to make a sound.

“—AND HARRY POTTER JUST WENT FLYING OFF HIS BROOM—THAT BLUDGER REALLY HAD IT OUT FOR HIM AND WAS MOST DEFINITELY TAMPERED WITH—IT LOOKS LIKE THAT FALL TOOK QUITE A BIT OUT OF POTTER AS WELL—IT SEEMS HE’S GOING TO BE SICK—”

Sure enough, Harry doubles over and opens his mouth, but he doesn’t get sick. Instead, when he opens his mouth, out pops the snitch, falling right into his open left hand.

“—IT SEEMS THAT HARRY POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH—ONE HUNDRED FIFTY POINTS TO SLYTHERIN—SLYTHERIN WINS TWO-HUNDRED FOURTY TO THIRTY!”

Harry is quickly surrounded by his teammates congratulating him, and he really is happy, but he doesn’t appreciate how much everyone keeps jostling his arm around.

“Ow, ow, ow!” he exclaims when, yet again, someone bumps into his arm and sends another spike of pain along it.

“Hey! Someone get this boy a doctor!” someone shouts.

“Not to worry, I’m on it!” comes the all-too-familiar voice of Professor Lockhart, and Harry panics.

“No!” he exclaims, but it’s too late and Lockhart is already brandishing his wand at Harry’s arm, completely butchering some spell, and Harry’s arm quite literally deflates.

“Ah, well, that can happen sometimes. At least it’s not broken anymore!” Lockhart says with a grin as everyone looks at Harry’s arm in shock.

“Broken! _Broken_!?” Draco shrieks, suddenly at Harry’s side like the worried friend he is. “They’re no bones left to _be_ broken! What did you _do_!?”

Lockhart has the sense to look ashamed at this. “Well, like I said, that can—”

“My father _will_ hear about this! I would start packing your things if I were you, you won’t be a professor here much longer,” Draco fumes. “Out of the way! We need Madame Pomfrey! _Someone_ is too incompetent for healing charms and has _ruined_ Harry Potter’s arm!”

Harry is at least thankful that the limp noodle his arm has become might at least get Professor Lockhart sacked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hilo! I’m back finally back everyone!
> 
> How did you enjoy this chapter? Was it worth the long wait? I really hope you enjoyed, because I had a lot of fun writing it and getting back into the flow of writing for this series after a month away (has it really been that long?)
> 
> Anyways, what did you think? I was originally planning on adding more of Seeker!Ginny into this chapter, but I was really in a flow and I feel like maybe I rushed the whole game, but I don’t know. Let me know what you think and what I could do better—I don’t really consider myself much of a fast-paced, action-type write but I’m really trying to work on that because it would add so much to both my fics and original stories alike.
> 
> Updates are going to be sporadic for the next couple of months, I’ve got college coming up (so far mine still plans to open in the fall) so I’ve got to get all packed for that and work out with my roommate what each of us is going to bring, and I’m going to be really busy. As soon as I get into a normal schedule again I will be back to regular (weekly!) updates.
> 
> Please remember to leave kudos and comments, every single one makes my day and I love hearing what you all think! I hope you enjoyed, and stay-tuned for more updates! You’re all amazing and I love you!  
> -2MusicLover2


	12. Dobby’s Visit

Fortunately for Harry—and Professor Lockhart’s job—Madame Pomfrey knows how to regrow bones and can fix Harry’s arm. This doesn’t stop her from being shocked and slightly angry, however, when Draco and Harry walk into the Hospital Wing straight from the game. In fact, the conversation goes a little something like this:

“Don’t tell me Potter here got cursed again.”

“Not directly, at first; but then, yes, directly.”

“What do you—where did his bones go?!”

“Ask _Lockhart_.”

“That man… should’ve sent him straight to me… I remember him from his days here… nothing but trouble—just like the two of you! I _knew_ nothing good could come out of you being on the Quidditch team, What with Potter getting cursed last year just sitting in the stands…”

“I am right here.”

“Yes, and you need to lay down and drink this. I have to warn you, though, it’ll be—”

Harry wishes that he would’ve waited for her to finish her warning, as he spits it out almost as soon as it touches his lips, causing the disgusting liquid to spray all over poor Madame Pomfrey and Draco.

“—well, what did you expect? Pumpkin juice? Now you’re going to have to drink some more,” Madame Pomfrey says, shaking her head at Harry as she pours out another measurement of Skelegro Potion for him, and this time Harry forces himself to actually swallow it.

“So, Madame Pomfrey,” Draco says as the matron starts getting Harry’s arm into a sling. “In your professional opinion… do you believe this injury could hold enough grounds to get Lockhart sacked?”

Harry takes in a deep breath and shakes his head in exasperation at his best friend’s bluntness. Even if Harry would like to get Lockhart sacked just as much as Draco, and maybe even more, he doesn’t think it would be a good idea let other staff members know of their goal.

“Draco,” Harry whispers, warning clear in his voice as he looks at his best friend.

Draco ignores Harry and just raises his eyebrows at Madame Pomfrey in question.

Madame Pomfrey gives both Draco and Harry a stern look. “I do not condone students attempting to get teachers removed from their positions,” she says, and Draco sighs heavily, but then she continues much quieter. “Normally I would say no, as this is a very fixable injury, however, if I know your father, Mister Malfoy, then I would say that yes, Mister Potter’s injury _is_ enough to get Lockhart sacked.”

Draco smiles brightly at this and holds up his hand for Harry to high-five, which Harry does while rolling his eyes fondly.

“Yes!” Draco exclaims. “Sorry, Harry, I have to go now; gotta send a letter to Father. Let’s see just how much pull he has at this school!”

With that, Draco half-runs-half-skips out of the Hospital Wing as Harry and Madame Pomfrey both shake their heads at him.

“Make sure he knows that I claim no participation in this,” Madame Pomfrey says, and Harry nods his head. “Now, time to sleep. It’ll be better if you’re asleep while your bones regrow.”

Harry can already feel his arm tingling as if he is being poked with hundreds of needles, so he lays down and tries his best to fall asleep. Luckily, playing Quidditch had taken a lot of his energy and he doesn’t stay conscious for long.

~*~

When Harry wakes up and the Hospital Wing is still dark, all of the curtains on the windows still drawn shut, he thinks it was the pain in his arm that woke him. That thought quickly leaves him, however, when he sits up to see Dobby sitting at the foot of his bed, staring at him with his large eyes and wringing his hands.

“Dobby? What are you doing here?” Harry hisses, trying to stay quiet so as not to wake Madame Pomfrey.

Dobby doesn’t respond and instead just keeps sitting at the foot of Harry’s hospital bed, his eyes wide and his bandaged hands continuously rubbing over each other.

“Dobby,” Harry says, his voice edging into a warning. “What’s going on? Why are you here? Is everyone okay?”

Dobby shakes his head and Harry’s back straightens in fear as he sits up even more and scrambles to get closer to Dobby.

“Who is it? Who’s hurt? What happened?” he asks, panicking slightly now.

Dobby takes a moment to respond, still wringing his hands, and Harry is about to reach out and shake an answer out of him when he finally speaks.

“Harry Potter is not safe here,” Dobby murmurs, and Harry throws his good arm up in the air in exasperation.

“Not this again,” he groans, flopping back down onto the bed and ignoring the pain that the action causes to shoot up his arm. “We’ve been over this, Dobby: whether I’m in danger or not, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m staying here no matter what.”

“Harry Potter must go _home_ ,” Dobby pleads. “Dobby thought his bludger would—”

Harry sits back up. “ _You’re_ bludger? You sent that bludger after me? You do realize that _killing me_ is not the way to go if your goal is to protect me, right?”

“Dobby only thought—”

“No, Dobby _didn’t_ think,” Harry interrupts, glaring at Dobby.

“Harry Potter must _listen_ to Dobby,” Dobby insists, quiet yet urgent.

Harry clenches his jaw shut and crosses his good arm in front of his chest to show that he doesn’t want to comply but is doing it anyways.

“Harry Potter is not _safe_ at Hogwarts,” Dobby says, and then hurriedly continues when Harry opens his mouth to say something. “Bad things are happening at Hogwarts this year and Harry Potter is in _danger_. Harry Potter must go home before Harry Potter gets killed.”

“What ‘bad things’ are happening, Dobby? Maybe I can stop them.”

Dobby shakes his head, then jumps off the bed and starts banging his head against the bedposts.

“Dobby! Stop it!” Harry hisses. “Tell me what’s going on!”

“Even the great Harry Potter cannot stop the terrible things happening at Hogwarts this year. Harry Potter must go home where it is safe, or else Harry Potter might get hurt.”

Harry scoffs. “Sorry, and no offense, but I don’t think I’m going to let a house-elf tell me where I’ll be safest, especially one whose idea of keeping me safe is sending a Bludger after me and breaking my arm.”

“Dobby did not know how else to get Harry Potter to go home. First Dobby thought if Harry Potter thought his friends no longer wanted to be friends with him then Harry Potter wouldn’t come to Hogwarts. Then when Dobby stopped Harry Potter from getting onto the platform—”

“Hold on. _You_ blocked off the platform and stopped Ron and I from getting on the train?” Harry demands, and the only thing that stops him from reaching out and strangling Dobby is the faint memory of Draco telling him that Dobby is basically just Draco as a house-elf. “Okay. We’re going to need to have a serious conversation about—”

Harry freezes as he hears a commotion in the hallway then quickly lays back down in his bed, pulling the covers back over himself and pretending to be asleep as Dobby disapparates.

Then, Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall step into the Hospital Wing, each holding an end of what seems to Harry to be a statue of a young boy, which they set down on the bed nearest the door.

“Go get Poppy,” Dumbledore whispers, and McGonagall hurries off to Madame Pomfrey’s office, which Harry realizes must also hold her chambers.

Moments later Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall are both rushing back to where Dumbledore still stands by the statue’s bedside.

“What happened?” Madame Pomfrey asks as she starts fretting over the statue and Harry becomes even more confused than before. Why would Dumbledore and McGonagall bring a statue to the Hospital Wing and why would Madame Pomfrey be so worried about it?

“Another attack,” Dumbledore answers, which only adds to Harry’s confusion. Someone was attacking statues? Or was this statue attacking students and Madame Pomfrey was supposed to fix it?

“Petrified,” says Madame Pomfrey, and, oh. That makes a lot more sense now. But who—

“There was a bunch of grapes next to him, we think he was on his way here to visit Potter,” McGonagall says, which causes Harry to panic because the only person he knows that would be stupid enough to try and visit Harry in the middle of the night is Draco. “I shudder to think what could have happened if Albus hadn’t been on his way downstairs for some hot chocolate—You don’t think he managed to get a picture of his attacker, do you?”

Well, at least it’s not Draco, Harry thinks, because he doubts Draco even owns a camera, let alone knows how to use one. That only makes Harry curious again, however, because who would be visiting him in the middle of the night?

Harry strains himself to sit up just enough to get a better look at whoever is laying in the bed as Madame Pomfrey pulls a camera out of the person’s hands and starts opening the back of it. Just before a puff of smoke bursts out of the camera and Harry smells burning plastic, he gets a glimpse of the victim’s face, which is just enough for him to be able to say with absolute certainty that Colin Creevey had been petrified.

“Good gracious!” exclaims Madame Pomfrey, and then, quieter, “melted. It’s all melted…”

“What does this mean, Albus?” asks Professor McGonagall.

“It means the Chamber of Secrets has, indeed, been opened,” answers Dumbledore.

Madame Pomfrey claps a hand to her mouth in shock.

“Who?” McGonagall asks.

Dumbledore shakes his head gently at her. “The question is not who, but how.”

Harry sags down into his bed, trying to block out the voices of the three staff members and the image of Colin laying there, so still Harry had been sure he was a statueHarry decides that there is _one_ question he knows the answer to, and that’s that he won’t be getting any sleep that night.

~*~

Sure enough, when the sun starts peeking through the curtains the next morning, Harry is still awake to watch it happen. He sits quietly through Madame Pomfrey’s examination, only speaking to give her the answers to all of her questions. Finally, she deems him well enough to be released, and he quickly makes his way into the Great Hall and to the Slytherin table where he spots Draco, Ron, and Hermione.

“Draco!” he calls as soon as he sees his best friend, and Draco immediately looks up with a smile. “We need to talk!”

Draco’s smile falls and Harry crosses his arms as he sits down across from him.

“ _Your elf_ ,” Harry says, and Draco starts protesting.

“Oh, no, no. I take no responsibility. Technically, he’s not even my elf, he’s dad’s, so—”

“Fine, whatever, I don’t care _whose_ elf he is, but he woke me up in the middle of the night to inform me that I’m in danger and I need to go home and then—you know what? This probably isn’t the best place to be having this discussion,” Harry says, realizing that a couple of first year Slytherin girls have paused in their eating to listen closer to what he is saying.

Draco gives Harry a glare then tosses a piece of toast at him. “Breakfast on the go, then. I’m not waiting for this conversation, come on.”

Once Harry, Draco, Ron, and Hermione are safely out of the castle and out of earshot of other students, Harry starts talking.

“So, I was just minding my own business, sleeping and regrowing my bones, right—”

“Get to the _point_ , Harry. I said I’m not waiting to have this conversation, and that means no useless backstory, too,” Draco complains.

Harry scoffs. “It’s not useless, it—”

“Boys! Shut it! Just tell us what happened with Dobby,” Hermione says, clearly exasperated.

“Merlin, a guy tries to complain a bit, and—”

“Harry,” Hermione warns.

“I’d listen, mate,” Ron says. “She’s scaring me a bit, and I’m not even a part of this.”

“Fine, fine,” says Harry. “So, pretty much, Dobby visited me in the Hospital Wing last night to tell me that Hogwarts is even more dangerous than usual this year and that I need to go home. I told him that was never going to happen, and then he revealed to me that _he_ was the one to not only cause a bludger to break my arm, but also he was the one to block the platform at the train station. This is on top of him stopping me from receiving any letters this summer, mind you, so—”

“Harry, stop complaining about my bloody elf and get on with the story!” Draco demands.

“Oh, so _now_ it’s your—”

Draco glares at Harry.

“Sorry, I’m just freaking out, here!” Harry says. “The Chamber of Secrets is officially open, and I have Dumbledore’s word to prove it.”

His friends all freeze in their path around the castle and look at Harry, Hermione in confusion, Ron in fear, and Draco in a mixture of the two.

“What do you mean you have Dumbledore’s word to prove it?” Hermione questions.

“So, while Dobby—”

“Enough with the elf! I get it!” Draco exclaims. “I’m starting to think there’s an actual story here and I’d rather you tell us that one than about my elf.”

Harry sighs. “I am telling it, calm down! Now, as I was saying, while Dobby was trying to get out of explaining to me just what was going on, Dumbledore and McGonagall come in, so, of course, Dobby disapparates, leaving me to pretend to be asleep as they carry in Colin Creevey’s body—”

“Body? You mean he’s…” Ron trails off as if he doesn’t want yo finish the thought.

“No, well, kind of—he’s petrified. And—get this—Dumbledore seems to think it was the same person that petrified Mrs. Norris. McGonagall and Pomfrey were both asking questions about what this could mean, and he said, and I quote, ‘It means the Chamber of Secrets has, indeed, been opened.’ So, I’m freaking out a bit, and your elf knows something,” Harry finishes, looking at Draco pointedly.

Draco rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “And what, exactly, do you expect me to do about that? Hm?”

“Oh, I don’t know, you could always question him about what he knows and what kind of danger we’re in exactly. Or get one of your parents to do it. Something.”

“Yeah? And what makes you think _I’m_ going to get any answers out of him when you couldn’t? Merlin knows you’re just as much a master to him as I am, and he likes you better anyways, so—”

“Both of you! Shut it! I’ve had enough!” Hermione shouts. “Now, I’m not sure what your problem is at the moment, and I’m not really sure I care, you can work it out by yourselves later. But right now, we have other issues to deal with. Harry, are you sure Dumbledore said the Chamber has been opened? He couldn’t have said anything else?”

Harry shakes his head, slightly ashamed of his behavior. “No, I’m positive that’s what he said.”

Hermione nods her head as if thinking through something.

“‘Mione? What are you thinking?” Harry asks.

“Probably that you’re being a git,” Draco mumbles.

Hermione turns her glare on Draco. “Not. Helping.”

Draco holds up his hands in surrender then wanders over to a tree at the edge of the Forbidden Forest a few feet away and sits down with his back to the trunk.

“It’s not a student,” Hermione says at last.

“What d’you reckon’s been opening the Chamber and writing creepy messages on the walls, then?” Ron asks.

“Well, _that’s_ a student,” Hermione says. “But the actual petrification… that’s really advanced magic, even for a seventh year. I don’t know anyone who could handle that type of magic here at Hogwarts. Come on, I want to go do some reading in the library. Draco, are you coming?”

Draco looks up from where he was fiddling with some grass and shakes his head. “No, you go on. I don’t think I’d really be wanted there.”

“Really?” Harry asks, but Draco ignores him in favor of picking at the grass some more. “Fine. Be that way. Come on, Hermione, Ron. Let’s go figure out what’s petrifying everyone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hilo!
> 
> Wow, it’s already the end of July. I’ve been so busy lately that I really spent all day thinking it was Tuesday only to be informed that it is, in fact, Friday. Yeah. Talk about losing track of time.
> 
> So, lot’s of new things happening in this chapter. Lockhart might get fired, so that’s cool. On the other hand, Harry found out that Dobby has been the one causing bad things to happen to him, and now he and Draco are fighting.
> 
> Let me know what you thought of this chapter and what you’re predicting for the future! It’s fun for me to see just how predictable I’m being (I’ve got a lot in store for the ending of this book!) I also reply to all comments, it’s one of my favorite things to see that I’ve got notifications in my inbox :)
> 
> Please be sure to leave kudos if you’re enjoying this so far! It really means a lot to me to see that all of my hard work that I’m putting into this is being enjoyed by others!
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!  
> -2MusicLover2


	13. The Parselmouth

The three friends never make it into the library. Or, rather, they never make it _inside_ the library, due to a crowd of students swarming around the doors and chattering excitedly to each other.

“What’s going on?” Hermione complains. “I need to _research_.”

“What’s _going on_ ,” says Fred Weasley as he and his twin escape from the pressing crowd to stand next to Hermione, Ron, and Harry. “What’s going on is that a poster has just been put up announcing the start of the Hogwarts Dueling Club, taught by none other than Gilderoy Lockhart.”

“A Dueling Club?” asks Ron. “I’d totally join if it wasn’t taught by _Lockhart_ of all people.”

“He’s not that bad, Ronald,” Hermione claims, shaking her head at the boys in annoyance.

“Where have you been lately, Hermione?” George asks in retaliation. “The man removed all of the bones in Harry’s arm.”

Fred shrugs. “To be fair, that could be quite useful in a duel.”

Ron raises his eyebrows and tilts his head slightly to the side in thought. “Okay, on second thought, you may have a point. Perhaps there _is_ something useful Lockhart can teach us.”

~*~

Draco ignores Harry for the rest of the day. He refuses to sit with Harry, Ron, and Hermione at dinner, instead choosing to sit at the Ravenclaw table with Luna. He hangs out with Holly and the twin first year girls, Hestia and Flora, in the Slytherin common room that night rather than with Harry and the rest of the Slytherins in their year. Then, when it’s getting late and the common room is slowly emptying out as everyone goes to bed, Draco does so without saying a word to Harry, or even looking at him.

Much to Harry’s dismay, this becomes the new normal for them throughout the week. When Harry wakes up in the morning, Draco is already missing from the common room. At meals, Draco chooses to sit with Luna, and, on the one occasion that Harry attempted to join them, Draco simply grabbed an apple and walked away. Harry, too tired to chase after him and also not wanting to offend Luna, stayed to sit with her and talk about her classes with her.

Meanwhile, Harry’s classes become abysmal and draining. The rest of the Slytherins seem to have taken Draco’s side in this argument—which, to be completely honest, Harry isn’t even quite sure what they are arguing about—and have therefore decided to ignore Harry in much the same way that Draco is. The only respite he gets is in Herbology, where he is slowly becoming friends with the Ravenclaws who no longer seem to think he was the one to open the Chamber of Secrets, and in Potions, where he has Hermione, Ron, and the rest of the Gryffindors to keep him company.

It’s Harry’s conversations with the Ravenclaws in Herbology that seem to bother Draco the most and gets the two boys to start talking again.

“Michael Corner? Really? You’ve replaced me with Michael Corner?” Draco demands as they leave Herbology and head back to the castle Friday afternoon.

Harry shakes his head. “No. Not just Michael Corner. There’s also Anthony Goldstein, and Terry Boot, and Kevin Entwhistle, and Stephen Cornfoot, and Padma Patil, and Mandy Brocklehurst, and—”

Draco rolls his eyes. “Yes, we all know that I can’t be replaced with just one person, it takes a whole House. But really? You’re actually attempting to _replace me_?”

“ _You_ are the one ignoring _me_. Don’t go turning this around. I don’t know what your problem with me suddenly is, but whatever. It’s fine. I’ve got other friends now,” Harry says, stopping in the Entrance Hall. “Now, I promised Luna I’d visit the thestrals with her, whatever those are, so I’m going to go do that. You can come if you want, I’m sure she’d enjoy, but I don’t want to hang out with you if you’re going to ignore me or be a git.”

“Fine. Go visit the thestrals with Luna, then,” Draco says. “Let me know when you figure out what you’ve done and are ready to stop being a git.”

“It’s you that’s acting like a git, but fine,” Harry says, and he leaves Draco standing alone in the Entrance Hall.

~*~

Harry can easily say that he was not expecting _this_ when Luna asked him to visit and feed the thestrals with her.

“The Forbidden Forest? Really? We’re going into the Forbidden Forest? I didn’t sign up for this,” Harry says to Luna as she leads him by the hand across the grounds and towards the Forbidden Forest.

“It’s okay, Harry. I won’t let anything hurt you,” Luna consoles with the most serious voice Harry has ever heard from her, a gentle smile on her face. “We don’t have to go very far. There’s a clearing that the thestrals seem to enjoy very much. Hagrid took me there to see them at the beginning of the year and he told me that I could visit them whenever I wanted. They enjoy the company. Not many witches or wizards can see them, and even the ones who can don’t normally like to spend time with them.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows as they enter the forest and he tightens his grip on Luna’s hand, causing her to smile comfortingly at him. “What do you mean not everyone can see them?”

“Only those who have seen death can see the thestrals,” Luna explains, the smile still on her face catching Harry off-guard and making him take a moment to process this information.

He doesn’t get to respond once he realizes the meaning of what Luna has told him, however, as they arrive upon the clearing then and Harry sees exactly what a thestral is.

At first, Harry thinks it’s just a herd of dark gray, winged horses that are severely starved to the point that he can see their bones. Then he realizes that in places, he _is_ looking at the creatures’ bones, the leathery skin having rotted off to reveal the black bone underneath. The end of the thestral’s mouth is a black bleak, pointed and undoubtedly sharp; Harry is sure it could rip apart an animal—or him—without any difficulty.

“Hello, darlings,” Luna says cheerily, opening her bag at her side to pull out a raw piece of meat that she probably stole from the kitchens. The thestrals starting running towards them, and Harry panics, ready to scream and drag Luna away with him, but then Luna throws the meat and one of the thestrals catches it in its beak and the others stop to try and pull pieces from it. “I have more for you,” Luna says, pulling out more meat and throwing it at the thestrals again.

Harry doesn’t move. He doesn’t understand how Luna can be so calm about this. The thestrals are fighting over the meat and Luna is just standing there, petting their sides and their beaks, seemingly not even afraid of getting her fingers bitten off.

“You can pet, them, you know,” she says after a few minutes. “They’d be happy to have another human keeping them company.”

Not wanting to offend Luna or the thestrals, Harry slowly walks up to them and lets Luna take his hand to guide him in petting the thestrals. It’s a lot like what Harry would imagine petting a corpse would feel like. In the places where the thestral’s skin is especially rotten, the skin peels away on Harry’s hand as he pets it and the thestral leans into his touch.

“Doesn’t that hurt it?” Harry asks when a particularly large piece of leathery skin falls away to reveal the bones beneath.

Luna shakes her head. “They shed their skin as they grow. It just looks like all of their skin is falling off. The black stuff underneath is actually the new skin.”

“So that’s not its bone?”

“No, they’re bones are white, just like ours,” Luna says.

Harry thinks Luna is the only person who could say something like that without making it sound creepy.

“You said people can only see thestrals if they’ve seen death… does that mean you’ve seen someone die?” Harry asks tentatively, a little less grossed out by the thestrals now that he knows they are just shedding.

“My mother,” Luna replies. “When I was seven.”

“Oh,” Harry says, not wanting to say ‘I’m sorry’ because he knew how empty and meaningless it felt whenever someone said it to him, but not quite knowing what else he should say. “Do you miss her?”

“Sometimes,” says Luna. “She used to experiment and try to make new spells. One of them went wrong and she died. Sometimes I wonder what I would be doing if she was still here, but it’s better to live in the moment than to dwell on the past or what could have been. Nothing good comes from trying to bring back the dead.”

Harry pauses in petting the thestral for a moment to look at Luna better, but is forced to start petting it again when it nudges the side of his head with its own.

“That was really wise,” Harry decides on saying.

“We all must have our moments. Don’t worry, you’re wise, too, Harry.”

Harry finds himself vowing to make sure Luna only ever gets the best things the world has to offer. She’s just too pure to have to go through any form of struggle or hardship.

~*~

Finally, the day of the Dueling Club’s first meeting arrives, and Harry finds himself surprisingly excited as he makes his way to the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione.

Harry and his friends arrive early enough to be able to watch as Professor Lockhart, Professor Snape, and a few upper year students transfigure the tables in the Great Hall into black banners that hang on the wall, each bearing a pair of white wands crossed in an ‘X’ with colorful sparks and ribbons of spells swirling around them and across the banner. One of the tables gets transfigured into a large chalkboard with a piece of chalk, that, upon squinting, Harry sees is writing down the names of students as they enter the Great Hall.

“This is a lot more organized than I thought it would be,” Ron says, looking around the room in awe.

Hermione nods along. “It’s impressive. Imagine all the possibilities for transfiguring tapestries like that. That takes a lot of skill.”

“Hermione, we’re here to learn how to duel, not to admire the tapestries,” Ron complains.

“Why can’t you learn how to admire brilliant spells when you see it?” Hermione asks with a roll of her eyes.

“Come on,” Harry says. “I want to get up front so we’ll be able to see when it starts.”

They make their way towards the stage that has been transfigured from one of the tables and join the small but quickly growing crowd already starting to gather around it. Unfortunately for Harry, the spot Ron and Hermione had chosen is right next to Draco and a group of Slytherins.

“Really? Did you have to stand next to him?” Harry hisses in Hermione’s ear.

“Yes, Harry, I did. He’s your best friend—learn to treat each other like it. Now, talk to him.”

Harry sighs.

He doesn’t have to talk to Draco, however, because Lockhart chooses that moment to climb onto the stage and start the first Dueling Club meeting.

“Hello, and welcome to Hogwarts’ Dueling Club!” Lockhart announces. “Can you all see me? Can you all hear me? Yes? Good. Now, in light of recent events, Professor Dumbledore has allowed me to teach all you youngsters how to duel! With me I have my assistant, Professor Snape—” Snape sneers out at the crowd, no doubt ticked that he is being referred to as Lockhart’s assistant “—as he has so kindly agreed to help me make sure no one gets injured!”

“Yeah, ‘cause otherwise you’d be killing us all,” Harry mumbles, causing Ron to snicker and Hermione to roll her eyes.

“Now, Professor Snape has kindly agreed to assist me in a little demonstration for you all before we begin!” Lockhart says, which earns him a mixed reaction from the students.

Harry is eagerly waiting for Snape to do something to Lockhart under the pretense of a Dueling Club demonstration.

Lockhart and Snape both get into position facing each other on either end of the stage.

“First, we bow,” Lockhart says, doing so in a rather extravagant manner, twirling his hands and bowing deeply.

Snape, on the other head, merely jerks his head. Harry doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t think he’d be too keen to bow to his opponent before a duel either, especially not Lockhart.

“Now we stand like so, wands at the ready… and we count down from three, then begin. Are you ready Professor Snape?”

Everyone turns their attention to the Potions Master, who simply starts counting.

“One… two… three…”

Lockhart tries some elaborate spell, no doubt, if the way he waves his wand through the air is anything to go by.

Snape, however, slices his wand easily through the air and the next second Lockhart’s wand is flying out of his hand and clattering onto the floor.

“As you can see, students, Professor Snape has just disarmed me! Now, it was very clear what he was about to do, I could have blocked him if I wished to do so but I wanted to—”

“Perhaps,” Snape interjects, causing Lockhart to stop speaking and turn to him with, what Harry notes, is a slightly terrified look in his eyes. “It would be wise to start with teaching the students how to block unfriendly spells?”

Lockhart’s eyes widen and he quickly nods. “Ah, yes, a wonderful suggestion Professor! Do you all know the spell? Yes? Well, just in case, wave your wand exactly as Professor Snape here had just done and say ‘ _expelliarmus_.’ Yes. Okay, now, let’s get you all into partners… how about you two together… the two of you… Harry, you can go with Ron—”

“I think not,” Snape cuts in. “Weasley here’s wand had _unfortunately_ been broken in the little stunt he and Potter pulled at the beginning of the year, and he has yet to find a replacement. I _shudder_ to think what might become of Potter should Weasley attempt to cast a spell on him.”

“Oh dear, we wouldn’t want that. Sorry, Ron, I just can’t let you duel with a wand like that,” Lockhart says, and Ron nods his head dejectedly. “Harry, how about you and Draco?”

Harry’s eyes widen and he looks at Draco who is glaring at him, before attempting to shake his head, but Snape smirks at them both.

“Ah, the dream team. The two of you haven’t been sitting together in Potions lately. I’m afraid Potter’s grades have been suffering for it. Perhaps you should start working together again,” he says, and Harry internally groans.

He does not want his first interaction after a fight with Draco to be a duel. He knows how well Draco can hold grudges and he is _not_ keen to be on the receiving end of that.

As Lockhart continues pairing students together for their first duel, Snape pulls Draco to the side and they whisper harshly to each other for a moment, Snape’s face becoming darker by the second, until finally Snape whispers something and Draco grins maniacally and walks back over to Harry.

Harry really does not want to duel Draco right now.

“Now, everyone face your partner and bow,” Lockhart announces, and around the room everyone does so. Some bow rather stiffly while other make a show of it, much like Lockhart did. Harry merely inclines his head slightly, too scared to take his eyes off of Draco who makes a similar jerky motion with his head as what Snape had done. “On the count of three I want you all to attempt to disarm your opponent—disarm only!—and to attempt blocking the spell. One… two… three!”

Harry doesn’t even get a chance to try disarming Draco—he’s sure Draco started before Lockhart had even made it to three—and Harry is on the floor, shaking with uncontrollable laughter. So, not playing fair then.

From the floor, Harry shoots off a jinx of his own, and suddenly Draco is tap-dancing, which looks absolutely hilarious with the murderous glint in his eyes, and Harry is sure that he’d be on the floor laughing even without Draco’s jinx.

“I hate you,” Draco says. “ _Serpensortia_!”

A snake springs from the end of Draco’s wand and lands on the floor between the two boys just as Lockhart is shouting for everyone to stop; it seems Draco and Harry aren’t the only was who decided to cast spells other than _expelliarmus_.

“Enough!” Snape shouts, and the chaos ends, everyone freezing in their places to stare at Snape as he looks around the room. Snape’s scowl deepens when he sees the snake between the still-giggling Harry and the still-tap-dancing Draco. He performs the counter-jinxes to fix Harry and Draco, and is just about to presumably get rid of the snake, when Lockhart steps in.

“I’ll take care of it! _Alarte ascendere_!”

Harry isn’t quite sure what Lockhart had hoped to accomplish with this spell, because the only thing that happens is the snake gets thrown about thirty feet into the air before it lands back on the floor, clearly angry as it advances towards a Hufflepuff boy in Harry’s year.

“Stop! Leave him alone!” Harry shouts at the snake, but it doesn’t listen. He repeats himself, more forcefully, as he advances on the snake. “Leave him alone.”

The snake turned towards Harry, and so did everyone else in the dueling club.

“I said _leave him alone_ ,” Harry repeats again.

“ _Vipera evanesca_ ,” Snape mutters, and the snake vanishes.

“What are you playing at?” the Hufflepuff boy asks with a shaky and slightly panicked voice, and Harry looks at him with wide, confused eyes.

“I think that is enough for this meeting,” Snape announces. “Everyone back to your common rooms.”

~*~

“A parselmouth,” Draco says when Harry enters his dormitory after a rather lengthy conversation with Ron and Hermione that was probably very similar to what this one would become. “You’re a bloody parselmouth and you never told me?”

“Don’t make me go through this conversation again,” Harry groans. “I just went through this with Ron and Hermione and am _not_ In the mood to go through it again. Besides, whatever happened to you being peeved with me?”

Draco scoffs. “Peeved? I was _beyond_ peeved. I was _furious_ —still am in fact! But now not only are you accusing my elf of opening the Chamber of Secrets and attacking the school, but I’ve just found out you’re keeping things from me! Important things! Like the fact that you’re a _parselmouth_!”

“Wait, wait, hold up. Accusing your elf of opening the Chamber of Secrets? When did I do that?” Harry asks.

“Um, on Sunday when we were with Ron and Hermione and you were telling us about Dobby visiting you in the Hospital Wing. Seemed pretty accusatory there, mate,” Draco says, crossing his arms over his chest and raising a single eyebrow at Harry expectantly.

Harry flounders for a moment. “I don’t remember saying that Dobby opened the bloody Chamber of Secrets, _mate_ ,” Harry counters, using the term ‘mate’ sarcastically just as Draco had.

“Well, let’s see. I believe you were freaking about the Chamber being opened and then you said, and I quote, ‘your elf knows something.’ Yeah. I’d say that sounds pretty accusatory.”

“Boys, boys, boys! Do we really need—”

“ _Not_ in the mood, Holly,” Draco interrupts.

“Oh, come on. Indulge your prefect a little here. What seems to be the issue?” Holly asks, throwing an arm around each of the boys’ shoulders and pulling them into her side, steering them to sit on Harry’s bed.

“How did you even get in here?” Harry asks, and Holly pulls on both his and Draco’s robes to get them to sit down.

“Blaise and Theo got me. Said you were being too noisy, and they were trying to sleep. Now. Tell me your problems.”

Draco huffs and refuses to say anything.

“Oh, come on, then. You tell her. You’re the one with the imaginary issue,” Harry says.

“It’s not imaginary! You think my elf opened the Chamber of Secrets!” Draco practically shouts, standing right back up again.

“It _is_ imaginary because I never said Dobby opened anything! I just said he _knows_ something!”

“No! You said—”

“I did not say—”

“SHUT IT! BOTH OF YOU!” Holly screams, and both boys fall silent. “Good. Now, we are going to handle this _civilly_ and like _adults_ , because I’m tired and I want—shut it, I don’t care if you’re twelve or twelve-hundred. Adults, got it?—I want to go to bed. Now, I want you to start from the beginning. Draco can go first since, as Harry said, Draco is the one who is upset right now. So, Draco, what’s got your panties in a twist?”

Draco scowls at Holly. “Really? That whole speech about handling this like adults and you ask me _what’s got my panties in a twist_? Real mature, you are.”

“I’m not the one arguing, am I? So, spill it.”

“Ugh. I hate this. I hate you. I hate both of you,” Draco complains.

“Right back at you,” says Harry, who then sticks his tongue out, only for Holly to grab it.

“Enough of that. I am not afraid to hex either of you.”

Draco sighs, and Harry rubs his tongue as Holly releases it.

“Fine. On Sunday, when Harry got out of the Hospital Wing, we were talking with Ron and Hermione about the Chamber of Secrets and the fact that it’s been opened—”

“I’m going to need you to pause there real quick,” Holly interjects. “What do you mean the _fact_ that it’s been opened? That’s only a rumor.”

“No. Colin Creevey was attacked Saturday night,” says Harry. “I was awake when they brought him to the Hospital Wing and Dumbledore _specifically said_ that the attack meant the chamber has really been opened.”

Holly’s eyes widen. “Bloody hell.” She stands up abruptly and pats each Harry and Draco on the head. “Sorry, I’ve got to go.”

“What? Why?” Harry asks as Holly leaves their room.

“Do you know something about the Chamber?” asks Draco. “Holly? Holly get back here! Holly Eve Parkinson!”

Holly comes back into the room and clamps her hand over Draco’s mouth.

“Shut it! And stop licking my hand, I’m not going to move it. Don’t either of you _dare_ say anything but yes, I think I might know something about the Chamber of Secrets and who is opening it. I have to check to be sure, though, so you can’t say or do _anything_ , do you understand me? If you do, I’ll make sure you both get sent home, and it might just be in a body bag. Not even any of your little friends can find out. This secret lives and dies with you.”

Draco and Harry both nod their heads.

“Good. Glad we’re in agreement. Now… _sort this argument out_.”

With that, Holly leaves the second year boys’ dormitory, Harry and Draco both sitting on Harry’s bed in shock.

“Did she threaten to kill us?” Harry asks finally, and Draco scowls.

“Yes. But don’t think this means we’re friends again. I’m still mad at you,” he replies.

Harry huffs. “She said to sort this out, so let’s sort it out.”

“I don’t want to. You accused my elf of opening the Chamber of Secrets and then you kept the fact that you’re a parselmouth from me,” Draco says.

“Come on, you don’t really think I believed _Dobby_ opened the Chamber of Seecrets, do you? I mean… it’s _Dobby_. I just said he knows something about the Chamber,” says Harry.

“Then who were you implying was the one to open it? Because if you weren’t accusing Dobby, you were accusing someone close to him, and the only people he ever really sees is my family.”

Harry starts getting uncomfortable under Draco’s scrutiny and he shifts in his seat. “I didn’t mean for it to sound that way. I only meant that maybe he had heard something from one of his elf friends. If I thought it was you or one of your parents, then I would have said something.”

“Dobby doesn’t have any elf friends! He’s weird, even by elf standards… especially by elf standards,” Draco says.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that. Just like I didn’t know I was a parselmouth until Ron and Hermione explained it to me, like, an hour ago,” Harry defends.

Draco raises a single eyebrow again. “You didn’t know you were a parselmouth? How do you not know something like that?” he asks skeptically.

Harry shrugs. “Most people don’t really get many chances to talk to snakes, do they? I’ve only ever done it once before, when I set a python on my cousin Dudley at the zoo, but that was before I even knew I was a wizard. I had no idea that I was _actually_ talking to the snake.”

“You set a python on your cousin?”

“Yeah,” Harry says with a sheepish smile.

“Nice,” says Draco with a smile of his own, but then he frowns again. “Stop trying to distract me. I’m still mad at you. The parseltongue thing I can get over, but my elf… it really sounded like you were accusing either him or my family. I can’t forgive that that easily.”

“Do you at least think you’ll be able to?” Harry asks tentatively.

Draco takes a moment to respond. “We’ll see. We can talk again, and be friends again, but I’m still going to be mad at you.”

Harry nods. “I can deal with that.”

The dormitory door bangs open, then, and Blaise, Theo, Vince, and Greg all walk in.

“You’re friends again? Great. I’m tired and I wanna sleep without having to listen to all of your arguing. ‘Night!” Blaise says as he enters the room, and then he flops down onto his bed and pulls the curtains around him.

Harry falls asleep a little bit easier that night, glad that he and Draco are at least on speaking terms again.

In the middle of the night, however, he wakes up remembering that Holly might know something about the Chamber of Secrets, and he doesn’t fall back asleep for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> Another chapter is finally up! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, and it’s a bit on the longer side, so I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Yes, I know that in canon Harry can’t see the thestrals until the fifth book, but canon’s stupid, so. There’s literally no reason for me including that scene in this chapter other than I wanted some nice Harry&Luna friendship content and thestrals just came to me. Honestly, though, Harry should have been able to see them sooner because even though he was only a baby, he still watched his mom die, so he /has/ seen death.
> 
> What do you think Holly knows about the Chamber of Secrets? Do you think she knows who is opening it? Let me know in the comments!
> 
> Also, Draco and Harry are talking again! (kind of) They’re both stubborn and petty 12yo’s, so I hope I captured that well enough in their argument. I think I did a good job, but it’s been a while since I’ve been 12 and I don’t know any kids around that age.
> 
> We also got to see Holly being a prefect! She’s a bit unconventional when it comes to her prefect duties, but she still manages to get done what she needs to.
> 
> Please, make sure to subscribe to get notified next time I post a chapter! I’m moving into my college on Aug 14, so there probably won’t be any updates before then, but I want to try and start doing regular (or at least semi-regular) updates once I get settled in with my schedule enough. Also, please be sure to leave comments, I love reading them and reply to them all, and to leave kudos, they make me so happy knowing that people are enjoying this fic as much as I am! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!  
> -2MusicLover2


	14. NOT A CHAPTER

Hey everyone!

I'm posting this because it's been two months since the last update and I just want to let you all know that a new chapter _is coming_. It should hopefully be out within the next couple of weeks, as I am working on it now. College life is just really hectic right now, especially with all of the extra measures we have to take to stay safe from COVID-19, so I don't have as much time as I used to.

Just keep in mind that I never abandon anything, so this series WILL be finished eventually. It will probably just be a few years.

Thank you for your patience! If you wish, you can head over to my tumblr (@2musiclover2) where I will be posting more frequent updates as to where I am at in the writing process and how much longer it will be until the next chapter is posted.

Thanks again!

-2MusicLover2


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